


If I'm Drowning Please Don't Save Me ('cause I've got to save myself)

by orphan_account



Series: If I'm Drowning Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's pulling in a good grade until he gets paired with argumentative loner Cas for his midterm paper. They fight like vipers but Dean's intrigued by the man who's shut himself off from seemingly everyone, not to mention the police file that his hacker friend Ash drops in his lap with Cas's history inside</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paradise Lost

His name was Cas. He had a PhD. Or would do soon. The information is second hand and the source not entirely reliable.

Still Dean listens to what Ash has to say and nods appreciatively.

"Oh and he's out of your league dude," Ash finishes after describing Cas's schedule for the next week in exquisite detail. The guy has a talent, mostly for fiddly computer things, but a little recon every now and then was almost a hobby.

Ash would have made a great spy, except for his penchant for 80's hairstyles and recreational drugs. In Dean's mind that was actually a bonus. Who would suspect the pot head with the mullet and denim jacket with torn of sleeves as a secret agent?

Still whether this was golden information or Ash's drugged up dream was still to be debated.

"I've never seen him before," Dean says eyeing the man across the park. He’s sitting on a bench, curled in on himself reading a book. Dean can't work out exactly what it is at this distance but Cas is enraptured.

"Just moved here for the final year of his doctorate to work with Doctor Uriel."

"Why'd he move?"

Ash blows his cheeks out. "Hard to say. There's nothing official in the schools records. The correspondence they've got online isn't complete. Bet there's a paper trail as well but seen as you gave me 15 minutes to do the job I didn't have time for a physical break in."

Dean looks at his watch. "11 minutes, 25 seconds," he says with an impressed raise of his brows. "Oh and don't break in to the Dean's office, just don't ok."

Ash deflates.

"Means he's had to pick up 2 undergrad classes make up the universities criteria."

"Undergrad?"

"KU requires an English credit at undergrad level. Most degrees include one but he studied in England."

"What's the other?"

"Teaching credit. Advanced biomedical neurophysiology or something."

"Or something," Dean repeats finding even the long words intimidating. It's not something Dean has ever even tried to be interested in. It's too big, too alien a concept to him that people are made up of chemicals and electrical impulses. It doesn't fit right with how he views the world.

"Like I said, way out of your league my man."

Ash gets up and grabs the Twinkie that Dean holds up unimpressed. He'd thought he'd get to keep it. Breaking in to the universities computers and delving for information on a man he had never even seen before all in 15 minutes.

"You misuse our friendship," Ash said with all seriousness before walking off.

When Dean turned to look for Cas again he was gone.

* * *

The first week of university is lazy. Dean's already set into his major so most of his classes are mandatory. He's got a free block for lit lab and so for the first few hours after he's met with his supervisor and the rest of the class he flips through the reading lists.

There are classes on ancient literature, modern classics, contemporary fiction, anything and everything really. KU has an exceptional line up, the classes small and choices wide.

By lunch he's torn between four. Shakespeare's diversity, dystopian futurism, British classics and religion in fiction.

He's read just about everything William Shakespeare has ever written, but he's studied it little. Reading books for something other than study helps him when he finally does sit down and pull them apart. He needs to see the overall work first, not the little details he needs to critique.

British classics is other the most mainstream of the courses, will have the best surrounding essays and literature. It'll be an easy credit.

Dystopian futurism though would allow him to read Vonnegut and Philip k Dick, Orwell and Bradbury. That's not a task at all.

The last course is a wild card. He likes the idea of the epic struggles between good and evil, morality and ethics. He'd read Paradise Lost a long time ago and been entranced by the idea that the devil was portrayed as having a voice, motivations and beliefs other than just pure evilness.

The course offered C.S. Lewis, Pullman, Keats, Blake and Dante.

He'd have to show his choices to his brother when he got home. Sam would have an opinion of them all. Not necessarily the one Dean had, but it was easier for him to funnel through his own thoughts by how he reacted to things Sam said than by sitting here questioning everything he came up with.

Firs though he has to head to Dr Singer's for his other free class.

He'd known he'd sign up for it since the moment he heard auto shop was a creditable class. When he reaches Singer's workshop he sees his name is already on the signup sheet.

"Thought I'd save you the trouble," Singer huffs as he wipes off his tools next to a classic black mustang.

"And what if I hadn't shown?"

"I would have called your course supervisor and raised hell that you hadn't when your name was on the list."

Dean laughs. He likes Singer. He's a rotund, bearded man who always wears a peaked cap, even when he's lecturing, which he does in his garage. There's a space that's cleared once a week so chairs can be dragged in and Singer can lecture the class with the sounds of auto shop in the background.

"Ok ok, you win. I'll be here."

Singer grunts in appreciation. "Though I might as well give you an A right now and get your smug smile outta my face."

"I'll bear that in mind when I need some time off."

Singer tosses him a wrench. "The mustang's making a winded noise. Engine's not turning over properly. Fix her and I'll wave your midterm."

It's a big job. She's a beautiful car but she's an old lady now. Not all the repairs are expert.

"You chose your other classes yet?"

Dean shrugs as he bends over the engine. "I only had two spaces this year besides my core modules. You nabbed one. I have the other narrowed down but I dunno yet."

"English crap I'm guessing? You read too much Dean."

Dean laughs as he straightens. Singer's not the first person who's told him that. Probably the first teacher though.

"You're a bad influence on me Bobby," he grins. He knows he's not supposed to call Singer by his first name but he's been around since before Dean could walk, his dad’s best friend.

He'd lost touch after John's death but Dean didn't blame him. He'd only been someone who came round to watch baseball with John, very occasionally watch the young kids for his best friend when he had to work late. When Dean and Sam went into foster care there'd been no reason or way to keep in touch. Dean had barely recognised Singer the first time he'd walked into auto shop but Singer had picked up on the John in Dean and they had begun an uneasy and gruff friendship, mostly because Dean was just as good a mechanic as his father had been.

"Sam'll know what to pick," Dean smiles at the thought of his little brother.

"How's Sammy doing?"

"You know Sam," Dean says. It's enough. Sam's exceptional in everything he does, a gentle child with more belief and happiness than Dean had thought possible.

"He'll be part owner of that firm before they even know it."

"Hmm I thought that kid’s honesty would get in his way. Appears not."

"Sam's too good for that."

Singer agrees. It's hard not to love the kid.

"Anyway. He promised he'd be home by five so I should get going. It'll take me a few hours to get her running smoothly again. Shop's tomorrow at midday right? I can see to her then."

Singer sighs. "Yes then Dean. She can be your project for the first few weeks."

"Who does she belong to anyway?"

"Some guy who just moved here. Didn't look much but he can afford a fully restored '67 and care enough to bring her in then he can be my new best friend."

"Rich?"

"The car speaks for itself."

Dean's eyes open wide. He's spotted about two grand of upgrades the mustang needs, but she's so close already. If the owner is willing he'd love to fix her up completely.

There's not time today to get into it as he checks his watch, needing to meet Sammy for dinner but he's back tomorrow.

* * *

Sam gets home at half six and Dean puts on a hurt face as he dumps his bags and apologises.

"Dean I am so sorry. I wanted to leave, but we just got this new case and it’s massive and I can't tell you but I want to. I do. It's going to be life changing. We could be the ones who lead to the change in national law. This is going to go nationwide."

Dean continues to stare, face blank.

"Dean I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I'm paying tonight. Let's go that restaurant you love so much, the texmex."

Dean can't hold his silence through that. "You hate texmex."

"Yes but I love my big brother and I want to apologise."

He ruffles Dean's hair as he passes and Dean swipes him off, annoyed Sam's using his big brother moves.

"I kinda fancied a burger."

"We could head to the Roadhouse? Sometimes I think you love Ash's burgers more than you love me."

It's time for Dean to take back his big brother mantle. He stands and grabs Sammy in a headlock. "Always."

Letting him go he grabs his keys. "But I'm driving."

"Always," Sam replies with a huff.

* * *

Nobody drives Dean's baby. If he's been impressed with some Joe's mustang then he was in love with his own baby. She'd belonged to his father, pieced together from trades and mates rates when his dad was a mechanic. A car like this would put him back more money than Dean could think of nowadays but over the years his father had cobbled her together as a poor mechanic.

He parks his ‘67 impala in the staff lot behind the roadhouse. Ellen wouldn't mind and his baby was safer there.

Sam unfolds himself from the seat and pushes him away.

"I sometimes think you love burgers more than me, but I know you love your car more."

"No contest."

He receives a shove that sends him into a table where a cute white bread family are eating together.

"Sorry," he apologises hands up. "He's my dumb kid brother. Can't take him anywhere."

Sam's found a table and it's not long before Jo spots them and bounces over to the table.

"So it'll be a lager shandy for Sam and ginger ale for Dean?"

"Hilarious Jo," Dean mock smiles up at her. "Sam will have an alcopop."

Sam gives him the bitchface to end all bitchfaces. It makes Jo crack up even more. She's impervious to it now.

"You'd be such a cutie if you smiled once in a while," she says chucking his chin.

Of course a wide grin cracks Sam's face. He grins more than most people smile. The kids a miracle Dean decides. After everything he's not sure how Sam's so well adjusted.

"Two burgers Jo," Dean adds to their order as she snakes an arm around his shoulder.

"Sure thing babe." She gives him a tight squeeze before bouncing back to the kitchen.

* * *

They talk like brothers do, arguing about their favourite TV shows, Sam's job (though he can't tell Dean anything about his latest case), Dean's university work.

It's late when Dean remembers he wanted Sam to help him choose a course. He pulls the list out his back pocket and taps his finger for his baby brother to look.

Of course Sam's set on Classic American Literature but Dean's so bored of all those old stories about plantations and the Mayflower.

"This one’s written specially for you," Sam jokes looking at the dystopian futurism syllabus. "Maybe you want to branch out a bit? British classics will bore you to death.

It's true Dean understands. He doesn't do anything for the sake of it. Dean can't do anything half assed. If he's not completely dedicated then he knows he'll fail however easy it is.

"Yup." Sam knows. He always knows him. "You're right."

"Of course I am."

"Cocky little git."

"Dean I know my big brother. You read Shakespeare for fun. You took me to see Hamlet when I was twelve years old and talked me through why you were laughing. You'd enjoy that. You've read Slaughterhouse 5 more times than I care to count. That's you as a uni module."

He takes his time studying Dean's last choice. Religion in fiction. For a while Sam's silent. Which is weird because Sam never shuts up. Sam's open and obvious about everything he's feeling. It's something Dean secretly envies about his little brother.

"What is it?" Dean asks trying to catch Sam's eyes.

"Do you remember when I was eight...?"

"How could I forget Sammy," Dean cuts in, voice perhaps a little harsher than he meant.

"Dad had just... died... They were talking about where we were gonna live... And I couldn't sleep. So you'd read to me. For hours. Every night. Anything the shelter had. Bleak House, Lord of the Rings, Dune. And Paradise Lost."

Dean remembers vaguely. He knows he'd read the epic poem before, but he'd read so many books that context wasn't something he could pinpoint anymore.

"What? I was 11."

"I'm not sure how much you understood, but it was more about the rhythm, the sound and an end to the silence. I remember the pictures best of all."

Dean rubs a hand across his face. He can't take the feelings that build behind his eyes in that special place that has a way of thoroughly unmanning him.

"So that one then?"

Sam is looking down at the table top in silence once more. "Whatever you want to do."

Dean doesn't push him. He knows Sam's feeling the same mix of heartbreak and hope that he is. Heartbreak for their broken family, the memories of being split up. Hope because they had each other. Then they'd stayed up all night and read to chase away the darkness. Now they were older and Sam had made something of himself. Dean was trying, really he was.

"I love The Space Trilogy," Dean rationalizes it away from the burn of paradise lost.

Luckily then their burgers are brought out by a grinning Jo. Her smile disappears as she notices the atmosphere at the table. Dean breaks into an easy smile, the mask more a part of him than his own honest expressions now.

Jo drops off their plates and puts his arms around Sam from behind. He notices her finally and places a hand over hers, smiling back over his shoulder when she pulls away.

"I cannot deal with the puppy dog eyes tonight," she sighs. "Smile Sam."

Once more a big grin grows on Sam's face and things are back to normal again.

* * *

Dean watches the campus for Cas. He hasn't seen the guy since that first day when he'd got Ash to look him up.

It's no big deal, Dean tells himself. Up close the guy might not even be that hot.

Sam often refers to Dean as a Rottweiler. He never gives up on anything once he's got his teeth into it. But he hasn't even got within a football field of Cas yet.

He lets it distract him through the introduction to the Early Medieval Literature module. The talk is so general he finds nothing to sink his teeth into yet. The reading list is passed around and finally he finds he has something else to concentrate on.

Modern World Literature gets right into the base of the course. The lecturer assumes everyone has read The Waste Land and they start discussing it straight away.

Dean's feeling better by lunch, getting into the swing of university life again. His next class isn't until 4pm so he takes the chance to head out for a run.

* * *

He loses track of time as he runs and it's only when he passes the campus Starbucks with its old clock out front that he realises it's almost time for his last class.

Dean doesn't even have time to head back to the changing rooms and get showered. He pulls his sticky t-shirt as he jogs up the steps of the English building, entering the class at the bell.

He probably smells of sweat and he doesn't have his books. He's out of breath and the muscles in his legs are shaking slightly as he sits.

The teacher casts an exasperated glance at him already. Great. Dean's exceptional at making first impressions.

The class gets underway with a summary of the semesters work. They'll be reading paradise lost and four contemporaries. Dean's already read half of them so he's pretty confident.

Then they break into a general discussion on the themes and conclusions from reading Milton's great.

"Sympathy for the devil?" a low, gravelly voice breaks through during one girls rant on the depiction of Lucifer.

Dean feels the voice run through his veins like liquid iron. His joints go stiff, his muscles tense at the sound of too little sleep and not enough use.

Hesitantly he turns to find bright blue eyes.

Holy shit.

It's Cas. Sitting at the back of the class, hands folded neatly on his desk. His eyes are on the blackboard, speaking not to a specific person, but to the universe in general.

Dean had questioned how hot he really was earlier, but not now. Cas is like nothing Dean has ever seen before. He's got dark hair, a little overlong, basically straight but with some torturous curls and waves at his temples. He wouldn't be surprised if he found Cas had got out the shower, grabbed a bit of product and shoved his hand through roughly to keep his hair from his eyes, leaving without even looking in the mirror. Messy works for him. There is the beginning of a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. The stubble frames wide, light pink lips. Dean's never seen lips like that on a man before, the bow is criminal.

It's his eyes though, like two holes have been cut in the universe and the ocean held up as a backdrop. Cas's eyes are so fucking blue.

Dean's looked into many peoples blue eyes before. Usually they're actually gray, or are pale and watery. Sometimes they bleed with green at the centre or darken to indigo. Cas's eyes though are just blue. Dean's lost control of his language, all he can think is 'blue'.

"Is Milton trying to tell us that the devil is sympathetic?"

"Lucifer was an angel," Dean answers before he realises his lips are moving.

Cas turns his eyes on Dean and he has no choice but to carry on.

"God created the angels to be perfect. Angels have no free will. Lucifer fell?" he shrugs, "How, when he has no free will, was he able to make that choice?"

"You blame god?"

"Well yeah. He created Lucifer to fall. He created Lucifer's pride."

"And angels can't have personalities?"

"Obviously yes. Lucifer shows that. But then he's cast out for having one. And why? Because god created humans, with their free will. They were allowed to choose. Lucifer wasn't."

The lecturer has stepped back, she's listening intently to the battle between the two students. The rest of the class is silent too, all enthralled by the argument masquerading as a debate.

"And that absolved him of his crimes?"

"No! But what Milton was trying to show was that even the devil has a story. Lucifer wasn't always evil."

"But he was created to fall?"

"He had the potential. Then again don't we all? He was pushed."

The bell goes, shocking Dean from how he'd been sitting leaning toward Cas.

Cas remains upright, hands still folded on the table. He opens his mouth to argue when the lecturer steps forward and break the class up.

"Very good. We'll be studying the first book next session."

The students file out quicker than Dean had ever seen a class leave before. There's an electricity in the room that they obviously sensed too, wanted to run away from. Even Dr Mills is out the door with her briefcase barely closed.

Dean sits for a moment to cool off. The conversation really had seemed like an argument in debate form.

He's still concentrating on breathing when Cas stands and moves to the front of the class. He's about to leave when he glances back over his shoulder and Dean has to ask.

"You religious then?"

Cas turns completely. He moves strangely, with the grace of a dancer but stiff like he's trying not to show how fluid he is. His eyes flicker over Dean's sweat dried white tee and still damp hair, the goofy red shorts and sweat socks.

"Not exactly."

Dean stands, drawn to the intense blue of Cas's eyes. He's standing very still, only moving his head to track Dean's process.

"Good."

He's close now, standing just far enough from Cas to be acceptable but not so far he can't see every minute change of expression around Cas's eyes.

"I will continue to challenge you Dean." He slides his eyes to the side, head following moments later, showing off the graceful curve of his neck.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Dean smiles.

Cas frowns at the wall he's studying as intently as he had Dean's face not long before. Dean gets the feeling Cas treats everything with the same severity and complete focus.

In a sudden flourish of courage, or lack of brains (Dean's not entirely sure,) he grabs Cas's pen from his hand and scribbles his number on the other man’s palm.

"Just in case."

Cas looks at his defaced hand like it's grown an extra finger in the past 5 seconds.

"In case of what?"

Dean's not sure if Cas is being purposefully obtuse or whether he really is this weird. He's not even sure he likes the guy. Yes he's hot, ridiculously hot, the stuff wet dreams are made of to be perfectly honest but he's looking at Dean as if he wants to squish him beneath his perfectly maintained leather shoes.

Leather shoes. Dean takes a second to look Cas up and down. He's wearing black chinos and a black shirt. Holy shit. Dean is having trouble forming coherent thoughts once more.

He may be a complete asshole. The jury’s still out on that one, but damn can he wear a shirt. He's slimmer than Dean, leaner, but he's still defined, with heavy muscles where he needs them, his thighs and calves especially.

"I dunno," Dean answers defensive now. "Maybe you'll feel the need to debate Dante at 3am one night. It's just a lifeline."

"I doubt it," Cas replies all arrogance and intriguing withdrawal.

As he turns to go Dean's fears are confirmed, Cas has an ass roman gladiators would be proud of.

* * *

Dean returns home to find Sam on the phone having a heated conversation with a colleague. They don't seem to be arguing but they're both intense and passionate.

"No!" Sam cries. "Just no! I don't care. It's evidence and it's going in. The client? I'm sure he'd think it was worth it. Look we have to run it past him Monday anyway so we should at least bring it up."

He listened for a moment, rolling his eyes.

"No. He's come this far why would he want to hide something that could help his case now? I think he's stronger than that."

Dean sneaks by into the kitchen. Sam enters as he's pouring himself a drink.

"Bad day at the office?"

Sam shakes his head. "This case. I know I can't say anything, but it's going to be massive and it's going to be tight. Nobody’s going to like what we're telling them, but they need to hear it. Henriksen's scared we'll go too far. But it needs to be told and I'm sure our client will agree."

Dean nods. He knows how passionate his brother can get and how he wouldn't care this much if it wasn't important. Sam would never push for anything that wasn't in his client’s best interests.

"Dean this could change the social system of this country forever."

"I'm proud of you Sammy."

Sam takes a moment to bask in his big brothers comment before breathing out long and slow.

"It's horrible. I didn't want to believe people could be like this. I just want... I want to stop it from happening again. Even if just one person doesn’t have to go through this because of what we say in court then it's good right?"

"Yeah it is."

Dean orders them pizza and sits with Sam until he's calm enough to enjoy the movie they're supposed to be watching. Then he opens his copy of paradise lost.

* * *

Cas is staring at him with open antagonism. Three days later it's the next class and Dean's taken a seat in the back row just across from Cas. There's nobody inbetween them. Clever class mates he thinks.

"It's not sacrilegious," Dean sighs half way through yet another heated argument. Cas is starting to really bug him. It's the gorgeous blue eyes and the expensive jeans. It's the way he constructs his argument so that even Dean can see his point.

"That isn't what we were discussing," Cas says his voice as gravel low and fiery as before. Dean's pretty sure that voice is burning out his ear, weeding its way into his very soul. He wants to hear that voice as he stands naked in the shower. "We were discussing the description of god and what it means."

"You think it's wrong," Dean accuses. "You think god is infinite and infallible."

"I told you before Dean that I am not a Christian and I would thank you to remember that."

"Pullman shows a world on the verge of collapse, a world without the touch of a deity. It was created by god but now god is an old and feeble man, powerless in his creation."

"And when you compare that to the Christian religion isn't that what they would call blasphemy?"

"That's not the point either! This is fantasy."

"Yes, but it tells a moral tale. What is this apart from a way to examine faith, Christian faith?"

"It's a goddamn book about children saving the world," Dean cries.

Once more the class is silent, watching their exchange in rapt fascination. Nobody has offered a comment for a good ten minutes now, not even Dr Mills.

"That's petty," Cas argues still. "Why are we studying it if the themes were so simple?"

Dean realises his mistake. He doesn't really believe that, but he'd been pushed by Cas's steady arguments. He can't argue with the guy, he's quick and agile and so very very wrong.

"The themes aren't simple, but they're not an extension of the bible either."

Dr Mills tries to stop them there but Cas is away and talking once more. "It's a parody then?"

It's not a joke and Dean grinds his teeth that Cas could even suggest that. "It's a work of fiction, just like the bible. God is the creator, but he gets old. They free him and he blows away like dust and ashes. Is that not a metaphor enough for this world?"

Dr Mills forces her way in this time. She's been quiet since the start of Cas and Dean's debate but time is wearing on and the teacher looks exhausted herself.

"Right, enough. If you want to continue do it on your own time. It's a good debate but we have other things to attend to."

Dean all but chucks himself round in the chair, looking straight forward, not at Cas, definitely not at Cas.

Dr Mills tries to pick up the thread of her lecture but the class is lost now and she gives up ten minutes before the bell goes.

"Let's pick this up next week," she says exasperated.

Dean's up and out his seat before she's finished talking. He can't even stand to look at Cas. The guy is infuriating, stubborn and gorgeous. Dean decides he hates him.

* * *

Thing's don't get better the next week. The debates become if anything more heated. Dr Mills bans them from talking in the fourth lecture, glaring at them both whenever they start to say a word. Dean's surprised to discover that he hates the classes he can't debate with Cas. Stuck up, arrogant, weird Cas who sits so straight in his chair and barely moves.

Two weeks after classes start Dean wakes to the memory of Cas's lips on his own. Shit he's dreaming about the guy now.

He stumbles out into his kitchen to grab a drink.

The sound must wake Sam who appears at his bedroom door.

"Go back to sleep Sammy, everything's fine."

"It's 4.30 in the morning. Dean are you sleeping?"

"Not right now, no," Dean says swallowing a pint in one drag.

"I mean really? You haven't got insomnia again?"

Dean shakes his head. He'd got to sleep at 2am. Pretty good for him. And he'd been sleeping, deeply. Until the dream had woken him.

"I was sleeping," he confirms. "Just a bad dream."

Sam's face falls. It's the wrong thing to say. But at 4.30 with a sleep addled mind Dean's not sharp enough to catch himself.

"Not like that." He sits, shaking his head. "Not about dad. I've been sleeping, really Sam I have."

Sam doesn't believe him and Dean doesn't blame him. Dean's a chronic insomniac, getting by on about twenty five hours sleep a week. He sleeps fitfully when he does, and the image of Cas before him really doesn't help. He adjusts his boxers self-consciously.

"You gonna sleep now?"

"I was thinking of finishing the book I've got to read for religion next week."

Sam comes to sit at the counter beside him. He yawns wide and deep. "You've already read them all," he grumbles.

"Dr Mills set some extra reading for those who were interested. The depiction of non-Christian deities in fiction."

The book is in his hand already along with a glass of water.

"You're reading God Emperor of Dune."

"It's relevant."

Sam scratches his head. "This is why I went into law," he laments.

Dean ruffles his hair from across the bar. It makes things feel right, being the big brother, earning a scowl and a swipe of Sam's hand.

* * *

Things don't get better and in fact in the sixth lecture, the third week of class, things only get worse. Cas and Dean start arguing before Dr Mills has even arrived.

If Dean has been turning up early just to provoke Cas he hasn't admitted it to himself yet. He still hates the guy, the way he can argue with everything Dean says. The way he will never admit he's wrong. The way his lashes curl over his low brows.

Dean's simultaneous ready to start a fight and stare at the guy’s perfect profile half the time.

So Cas is damn attractive, it doesn't mean Dean likes him. He can stare but it doesn't mean he wants to get to know the guy any better.

Dr Mills sighs as she sees them, before dropping her books hard on the desk.

Other students enter as they stop their debate and look her way. Dean's not sure but sometimes he thinks the others hang about in the corridor or purposefully turn up with seconds to spare just to avoid them. Dr Mills is easier on late comers than she was to start with, which only reinforces the idea.

"Right I thought we'd get started on midterms a little early this year. Hopefully it will give you all something to come together on. Now I haven't set the title of the essay yet, but it's going to be a comparison and critique of two contemporaries. One of the four set texts and one of your choice. It'll be general enough to include them all so don't worry. I just don't want to lead your thinking too much yet. It'll also be a joint project."

Dean's heart stammers in his chest. He knows what's coming next.

"Now I've divided you up into pairs already. I wanted to put together those with different views so that the essay included all viewpoints. Those of you who are neutrals are paired together because I don't want your viewpoint getting overridden either."

She reads the list of partners and Dean's unsurprised when his name comes up with Cas's. He grits his teeth as he glances over to his archenemy. Cas is staring straight ahead, fists clenched in the same way Dean's are.

"I suggest you use the rest of the session to start your discussion of the core text."

Dean gets to his feet as the class breaks apart. "Um Dr Mills. I need to talk to you."

"I know what you're going to say Dean. You're partnered with Cas. Get to it."

"But..."

"No buts. I believe university is not just about learning facts but also about learning to deal with people. Your opinion will differ from others in the real world out there. But you will sometimes have to work with them. You won't have a choice, but this will help you practice."

"But I'm bordering an A at the moment. If I flunk this class it could stop me from getting a good degree."

Dr Mills shrugs and gives him a winning smile. "Work it out Mr Winchester."

He leaves her feeling dejected to see Cas watching him. He's stunning in a white t-shirt and tan cargos. They have to be designer, cargoes should not look that good on anyone.

"Scared Dean?"

Dean flops into the seat beside him. "I'm not scared," he mutters. "I just want to pass this class."

Cas slides his eyes over to him, ever so slowly so that they fall on Dean like a caress. "You will Dean."

"We're gonna stop arguing for long enough to write any of it down. Na Cas we're gonna be arguing about what to write, how to write it."

Cas nods. He's not under any illusions that they'll suddenly start getting along.

The rest of the class moves slowly. Dean is on edge sitting next to Cas. They haven't even decided on a core text yet.

Cas favours The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Dean The Amber Spyglass.

He doesn't realise they're arguing so loudly until Dr Mills comes over with a sigh.

"I'm not sure if you two are a blessing or a curse. It's nice to see passion but come on I've started popping Tylenol before classes because of you guys."

"Well you put us together," Dean exclaims with a shake of his head.

Cas glares at him some more. It's beginning to become a ritual.

* * *

They finish early again because Dr Mills has a headache and they won't stop arguing.

"Mature class," she says as she heads out before anyone's had a chance to pack up.

Dean spares a glance at the rest of the glass. He's probably the youngest, apart from Cas maybe. The others are all at least thirty-five, people returning to education after years of work. Dean had just been waiting for Sam first and Cas is only here because of his PhD.

He can't work out how old he thinks Cas is. Sometimes the guy looks as ancient as the world, like he's seen more than Dean will ever see, like he's remembering the histories of empires behind the blue. Sometimes though he's so petulant Dean thinks he's actually twelve. Ash will know.

"We should just toss for it," Dean says as he stuffs his books in his bag ready to get out of there to the haven of his apartment.

Cas sets him with narrowed blue. Dean raises an eyebrow.

"No."

Simple as that. His one try at being rational had been refused.

"You want to duke this out until Dr Mills is failing us both because we couldn't even decide on a goddamned book to read?"

Cas shrugs as he stands, his long, narrow body unfolding gracefully from under the desk.

"I've made my choice."

"Yeah and I've made mine. I'm not just going to give in. I'm offering you a fair way to settle this."

It's almost as if Cas has never had to give in to anything in his life, has never had to compromise. He just doesn't understand that he can't get his own way every single time.

It's the driving force of their enmity. Dean likes a good argument but he won't just roll over and give in because someone else wants him to. He'll fight. He'll compromise when he has to, but not unless there are concessions from both sides.

Cas tilts his head, confused, intrigued but unmoved.

"I have to get to the lab," he shrugs once more before walking out the door without a second look at Dean.

Dean follows, jogging every other step to catch up until they're out the English building with its carved stone and heading to the grey hulk of the biosciences tower.

"We need to decide, now," he snaps getting in Cas's way. Cas takes an almost feline step to the side and rounds Dean without missing a beat. His card opens the side door to the labs and Dean slips in after him.

It's almost silent inside the biosciences back entrance. There's the faint hum of machines but there's nobody about, no sound, no voices, no music.

Cas's boots tap on the plastic floor as he climbs the stairs, Dean right after him hoping there's a way out without a card.

"Cas," he calls jumping stairs to reach him. "Cas!"

Cas rounds into a lab. It's not what Dean expected. He always thought labs contained Bunsen burners and test tubes. This one is mostly computers. On one wall there's a coffee machines and a loaf of bread sitting above a fridge.

Cas dumps his bag and logs on to one of the computers booting up a complex looking program.

"Dean I told you I have work to do."

"Then just agree on a book already."

Cas huffs looking back at the computer. In a moment he's up again and Dean follows him into the next room. This looks more like a lab, rows of fume hoods and tall refrigerators. Still no Bunsen burners though. Cas gloves up and reaches into what looks a bit like an oven. He pulls out some petri dishes before taking them into another room off the back.

Dean pulls the door to so they're shut in the small, poorly lit room.

"What is this?"

Cas sounds pissed now. "This is a fluorescent microscope."

"Can I see?"

"No."

Dean hangs back for a few minutes as Cas works, moving something at the side of the microscope and changing the dishes occasionally.

"Can I see now?"

"You can leave."

"Not until you agree to choose a book."

"I told you. I chose one already."

"Flip for it, play pool for it, I don't care but I'm not just gonna let you have it."

Cas finally looks away from the microscope.

"I chose Lewis because of the parallels to Lucifer's sacrifice. God's martyrdom and Lucifer's. It's your argument Dean."

Dean's dumbstruck for a moment. It's an interesting take on the essay, one he's sure nobody else in class would have thought of. Originality was their friend.

"Flip for it," he says still refusing to back down.

Cas moves aside and gestures towards the microscope. Already slightly off kilter from his last comment Dean lumbers forward. Down the sight is a small starfish-like blob of green body and long, thin extensions.

"It started as the cell body in the dorsal root ganglion. See the dendrites, the branches?"

Dean breaths an affirmative as he stares at the tiny green cell.

"They've grown in the past three days. When you destroy a peripheral nerve, it grows back."

Dean has no clue what half those words mean but he loves the colour of the - dendrites? And he's overwhelmed how Cas can do this, understand it and make it grow.

"Why's it green?"

"Dye," Cas answers. "So I can see the cell."

Dean moves away and turns to Cas.

"Why?" he asks again.

"Why what?"

"Why grow cells?"

Cas huffs. "Don't you ever wonder what you're made of Dean?"

* * *

Dean sits on the table in the computer lab until Cas is finished whatever it is he's doing with the green dyed cells. He's irritated, hungry, but refuses to leave until Cas has given him an answer.

He hates the guy more and more with each moment. The perfection of his high, straight cheekbones. The way he brushed Dean aside so easily to go back to the microscope. How he refuses to give in. At all.

It's almost six when Cas comes back into the computer room. He sees Dean sitting on the table, a copy of God Emperor on his knee and stops.

"Why are you here?"

"We need to choose that book."

Cas blinks for a few moments, long dark lashes descending on tanned cheeks making his eyes look even more impossibly blue.

"Oh."

The way his mouth forms the sound makes Dean frown. It's not endearing, it's annoying.

"Come on buddy, I don't have all day." Though he has been waiting for most of it.

Cas is confused, lost even. Perhaps he never expected Dean to be so insistent. It takes only a moment for his expression to change, back to harsh and aloof.

"I have chosen."

"No," Dean argues standing in Cas's way as he tries to leave. "You're kidding right? People let you get away with shit like this?"

Blue narrows to a sliver between dark lashes, dark brows low. Cas is angry. Well Dean is too.

"No, people do not 'let' me get away with this shit."

"Nobody ever challenges you? They agree with everything you say?" Dean scoffs.

Cas bares his teeth. It's such an animalistic reaction Dean falls back, eyebrows raised.

"You know nothing about me."

* * *

Cas had left in a storm of blue eyes, the smell of fresh wind and the loud bang of a uncushioned swinging door.

Dean had been in no less of a mood as he found the release button for the door and left the campus.

He was late home to meet Sam, saying little of his reasons. Sam could see he was angry and didn't push it. His little brother ordered pizza and left Dean to sulk with his copy of American Gods.

It was around 11 o'clock when Dean decided he wasn't going to give in on the midterm. He drew up a game plan in his head and knowing it was stupid forged ahead anyway.

* * *

The sun is up but it's barely past 6am. Dean's used to early morning and late nights. His insomnia would strike at the weirdest times. Occasionally he'd fall asleep easily at 11 and wake at 1 done for the night. Books helped, as did beer. Morning runs became the norm. So normal in fact he'd purposefully rouse himself from sleep if needed to go out before the campus woke.

As he finished his circuit he headed to the early opening Starbucks that may have even been 24 hours. It seemed to always be open.

He takes a coffee to go, falling onto one of the park benches as the sun rises higher and dries the sweat from his body. 7am he open his eyes to see Cas wandering towards the Starbucks.

He didn't need another coffee but he pushes himself up anyway, binning the evidence of his previous fix.

"I know more about you than you think," he says as Cas studies the menu. "Two regulars," he tells the barrister to Cas's eternal annoyance. "Your name is Cas Novak. You're 26. Moved here to finish your PhD under Dr Uriel. You're taking English credits because you studied in England and you can argue like the devil in disguise."

Cas scowls but takes his coffee when Dean offers it. Outside in the sun he sits down on the bench Dean had previously been laid out on and pulls a book from his bag.

"The picture of Dorian Gray," Dean reads impressed. The book is stunning. Without preamble he picks it out of Cas's lax fingers and scans the page. "I knew that I had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself."

Cas had originally been angry as Dean plucks the book away but then his face had turns soft, confused, mesmerised even.

"Why did you choose that quote?" he asks after a while, holding out a hand for the book. His voice is deeper than ever, the scratch more pronounced.

Dean shrugs. The page was open there and it had been a line that spoke to him the first time he'd read the passage.

"I chose The Amber Spyglass because it shows gods fragility, his fallibility. He's an old, demented man. His great plan, to throw Lucifer into the pit, it wasn't perfect, it backfires, god is flawed."

Cas shakes his head, seconds away from rolling his eyes.

"Fine, I will... toss you for it."

The way Cas says the words, so deep and slow makes Dean's neck flush. Toss takes on a whole other meaning and he's trying to mentally scour his brain so he doesn't have that image burnt behind his eyes forevermore as he says, "How about we play pool for it?"

Cas pushes a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "I don't play pool."

Dean remembers then to hate the man.

"What do you mean, you don't? Or you can't?"

"I do not have time Dean. I took a class on Milton because I thought it wouldn't disrupt my life too much, yet here I am."

"Nice to know you too."

"I have a meeting to get to."

"Then tonight. 8 o'clock at the Roadhouse."

"I can't Dean."

He finishes his coffee, dropping it into the bin beside the bench before looking down at Dean.

"I need this literature credit too. I concede."

Dean feels hollow as he walks away. He should be happy he's won the battle but instead he feels like he's lost something.

* * *

"Does he even have any friends?" Dean asks Ash as they spy Cas across the park once more.

"Nope," Ash answers, prepared this time. "That's free, but if you want anything more then it'll cost you 2 bags of skittles, a flump and some of those penny cola bottles."

"Fine. What else?"

Ash grins at the prospect of the sugar rush. Dean suspects he prefers sweets to drugs, he always seems happier to get them.

"He lives just off campus. No car so if you're gonna ask him out don't suggest anywhere too far."

"I'm not asking Cas out," Dean grimaces. The thought of a night trying to talk to the man in a civilised man seems impossible. Not that he hadn't suggested pool yesterday.

"Good. Because I've got no record of any hook-ups. And there's been no lack of trying. Every girl on campus wants to get in his pants and half the guys. He's got the emo loaner thing down."

Dean grits his teeth. He knows that alright.

"He blows them off, quite epically sometimes from what I hear."

"What does that mean?"

"Pamela hit on him at the beginning of the semester and he told her he would prefer his own company and that he was not attracted to her."

"Where's the epicness?"

"He said that, exactly that. He didn't even try to soften it." Dean isn't surprised. Cas isn't exactly tact in a bag. "Didn't sound angry or mocking, just said exactly that. She flipped out, called him all the names under the sun. Some of which you'd be pretty pissed at."

The thought of Pam being homophobic was weird. She'd been his good friend since they'd met in fresher’s week and she'd never once said or done anything when he'd leered at the same guys she was.

"Cas didn't react to it at all, just waited till she was done and then went back to reading. Anyway same thing happened to Sara. She was picking around and he told her to leave him be and that she was insufferable."

"Yeah he's a real charmer is Cas. He's also co-writing my midterm so I need info."

"Fine. He lives alone. House is sparse, he didn't move much stuff in with him. Maybe he doesn't have anything, maybe he's got a home somewhere else though he doesn't have family. Friend wise you're the closest he's got. He spends most of his time in the lab, doing Uriel's work for him from what the others say. He takes lit and teaches a bioscience lab on Friday afternoons. Works at the hospital on Saturday. Otherwise nothing. The guy's a fucking recluse."

Dean blows out a long breath. He knew that all already. Cas is a loner, he's intriguing but difficult. He's smart, not that Dean understands how difficult those cell things were to do but if he's taking Uriel's load as well then he's got to be some sort of genius.

"Only person I've seen him interacting with out of choice is you."

"Guy's weird." Dean tries to stamp down on the possessiveness that rises in his chest at Ash's casual comment. He might not like Cas, might argue all the time with him, but at least he's the only one.

Ash watches him for a few moments before sighing exaggeratedly and pulling a sheath of papers from his bag. "Look man I'm gonna regret this but I found these."

Dean takes the papers confused and opens the file. After a few lines he almost drops the sheets.

"What the hell Ash?" He drops his voice, aware of just how illegal the folder in his hands is. "Where did you get these?"

"FBI database. Department of justice. Medical records. You name it. Once I found out the guys real name it was easy."

"Do you realise how illegal this is? Hold up real name?"

"Yeah. Novak's a state given name because of the trial."

"The fuck Ash?"

Ash had dug deeper than Dean ever wanted to know.

"I wanted to know how to play the guy, not what his pin number is!"

"4553," Ash grins. "Hey don't give me that! You asked for details, I delivered. Not my fault it's TMI."

"You just said trial Ash! What he's a serial killer?"

"No. He's the Plaintiff."

Dean relaxes, he hasn't been arguing with a violent psychopath, which is good. He slams the folder shut.

"The look on your face," Ash laughs and Dean hits him with the heavy file.

"Just destroy this ok. I don't want it. I don't want any of it."

"No refunds bro." Ash climbs to his feet, hands held up so Dean can't sneak the file back to him. He walks backwards, points at the brief. "Interesting reading. He's an interesting dude."

Then he's gone and Dean has four hundred pages of very illegal, very tempting and very scary Cas in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few creative liberties with the uni, especially getting Dean and Cas into the same class, but I think it's worth it


	2. Perelandra

Dean stashes the file in an old gym bag under his bed. He refuses to read it. He doesn't want to know Cas like that. He just wants to get this paper over and never see the bastard again.

 

He should throw it away, but Dean's not that good.

 

He opens his copy of the amber spyglass and wonders what Ash had found out.

 

* * *

 

Cas sits alone. He's reading Perelandra, eyes never leaving the pages even as he reaches for the coffee beside him. It trembles as he nudges it and he only just saves it from falling.

 

Dean gets the idea that if it had gone arse over lid Cas would barely have even noticed.

 

Dean's beginning to work out Cas's schedule. He doesn't lunch at the same time as most of the university, instead waiting till the bell for afternoon classes has gone and he can sit alone outside in the sun.

 

He gets in just after seven and leaves usually around 6. Wednesday afternoons when there are no classes he continues to work through. Every other day he heads to the university gym taking an iPod Ash tells Dean is filled with a wide range of obscure artists neither of them has ever heard of.

 

Ash is Dean's partner in crime. Or more rightly he's the one egging Dean on. Dean didn't need to know when Cas got in or left but Ash is persistent, enjoying this way too much. He didn't need to know that Ash had broken into Cas's personal laptop to check out his iTunes collection and what was on his kindle.

 

That surprised Dean. He only ever saw Cas with paperbacks in lectures or when he read on the bench in the university park across from Starbucks.

 

Still Dean would pass candy bars across even when he'd never asked for information and Ash would continue in his quest to find out how many fillings Cas had, the sugar monkey on his back squeaking.

 

Next class is religious lit. Dean gets up having finished his own lunch and walks to where Cas is sitting.

 

"You ready?" he asks standing over the reading man.

 

Blue lifts to him, dark brows showing his annoyance.

 

"No Dean." He shifts uncomfortably. "Go ahead."

 

"Dude you have like 2 minutes. Come on, Perelandra can wait."

 

He reaches for Cas, pulls him up before the other man can resist.

 

Cas's eyes lock onto his hand around his wrist. They just stare until Dean lets go. The look is so baffling that Dean finds himself apologising. He shouldn't have touched Cas, of that much he's sure.

 

Cas pushes ahead, stalking his way to class with Perelandra still open between his fingers.

 

Talk of the day is Good Omens, a book Dean loves. He sits in the same seat as ever casting a glance at how Cas clamps his jaw and stares at his desk.

 

Twenty minutes in and Dr Mills is looking worried. Neither Dean nor Cas have attempted to say anything and it's so unusual that she actually calls on Cas for something, anything.

 

"Mr Novak. Your thoughts on Crowley?"

 

The angel that did not so much fall as saunter vaguely downwards.

 

"He tempted Eve to fall, just as he had. Then Aziraphale," Cas mutters not looking up.

 

"Dean?" Dr Mills turned towards him.

 

Dean shrugs, he doesn't meet her eyes either. "He hadn't meant to fall. He'd just hung around with the wrong people."

 

The answers were sober and simple. Dr Mills looked back to Cas expecting him to say something, to argue Crowley's faults and blame. The young man says nothing.

 

* * *

 

"Dean sit," Dr Mills says as the class ends. "Cas you too."

 

Dean falls back in his seat. Cas hadn't even bothered to try standing yet.

 

"What's going on?"

 

Dean scowls across at the silent Cas. "Nothing," he shrugs really not sure exactly what was happening between them. He hated the guy, he dreamt of the guy, dreams that made his cheeks flush. He hated their arguments, loved their arguments. He wanted Cas to fuck off and never come back. He wanted to duke it out with him in the middle of the park.

 

He wanted him to say something, anything.

 

"Nothing," Cas tells her too. "I'm just tired. I have a lot going on at the moment."

 

Dr Mills doesn't believe it, Dean can see it in the set of her jaw, but she doesn't push. She gathers her bags and leaves.

 

Dean goes to do the same but Cas is still looking down at his desk.

 

"What is it?" Dean can't help but ask.

 

Finally Cas looks up. He looks tired, worn down, but there's a strength in Cas that Dean can see so clearly it feels like a physical push against him as Cas gets to his feet.

 

"It is personal. Tomorrow I will be fine."

 

He swings his bag over his shoulder and pulls himself straight to look like the same stuffy, proud Cas as ever.

 

"You can vent if you want to."

 

"No I can't. Good bye Dean."

 

Dean watches him as he passes, long, slim but strong, his shoulders stretching the button up shirt he’s wearing.

 

* * *

 

A few days later Dean gets a chance to see Cas in action. He's finishing up his run when he sees Cas on the steps to the bioscience building. Stopping to regain his breath and take a long swing from his water bottle Dean watches him.

 

There's a girl beside him, beautiful, dark hair and deep tanned skin. Her almond shaped eyes are so dark they're almost black.

 

"Thanks for lending me the supplies last week," she smiles so obvious Dean finds himself wincing for her. "I put the laminin back for you, I know it's pricey."

 

"You’re welcome," Cas replies sounding trapped.

 

"How about I thank you properly by buying you a drink sometime?"

 

"No."

 

She blinks in confusion. Most people would at least pretend to be apologetic when turning her down.

 

"Lunch?"

 

Poor girl just keeps trying. Dean shakes his head.

 

"Lisa I do not wish to go out with you. Please do not ask again."

 

"Oh." She takes a step back, trying desperately to keep the sting of rejection from her face. "Yeah ok sure. Thanks again Cas."

 

She spins on high heeled boots and walks away as fast as her legs can carry her.

 

Dean feels for the poor girl. He'd thought perhaps news of Cas's preference for being a loner had got around the university by now. Perhaps Lisa had thought that by helping her out Cas actually liked her.

 

He makes his way over, slipping through the card activated door before it closes all the way.

 

"That was harsh Cas."

 

Cas stops with one foot on the stairs. He turns slowly, biting the inside of his cheeks.

 

"You could have let her down gently."

 

"Why are you here Dean?"

 

He shrugs. Honestly he doesn't know. "I was running."

 

"Then run along."

 

"You're a class A bastard you know that?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Why man? I get why you're a dick to me, but Lisa didn't deserve that."

 

Cas shakes his head, leaning up against the railing of the staircase. "I like my own company. I don't think I should have to apologise for that."

 

"Not for that, but for being such an ass about it. How about a sorry there?"

 

"I am not sorry."

 

Dean sighs and heads upstairs to Cas's lab, the dark haired man following him. He drops himself into a seat at the table beside the fridge as Cas hangs up his bag and logs in to a computer.

 

"You never feel the need to, I dunno, grab lunch with a friend and play a game of pool."

 

"I do not want to. My life is busy enough."

 

Dean spends more time than most think healthy reading but even he finds Cas alien.

 

"I've got my kid bro, well he's 25 now, but he'll always be little, even though he's 6'5."

 

Cas blinks at him. He doesn't care that Dean has a brother, is unsure why he brings him up.

 

"Got my degree, work in the bar on weekends. You should come by the Roadhouse sometime."

 

He's not sure why he says it. Cas won't accept his invitation. It's more just a hook to see what he can learn about the man.

 

"Friday and Saturday nights."

 

"I do not drink."

 

"You're no fun at all Cas."

 

"Then perhaps you can stop propositioning me."

 

Dean burst out laughing. Propositioning him?

 

"Cas you crack me up."

 

"That is my intention," he says sarcastically.

 

Dean studies him some more. The man with the fake name, the loner who could fight his own corner with deft skill and sarcasm.

 

He's got a dark past, one that's hiding under Dean's bed still untouched. There's ancient knowledge in his blue eyes. Cas has seen more than any man ever should do. It's turned him into the man he is today, cold and aloof.

 

Dean wonders what Cas would have been like otherwise. If he'd had an easy life. He thinks he sees it in the qualities that lead to girls and guys alike risking his refusal. The way he argues and sometimes seems to enjoy it. The way he comes back time and time again to fight. He doesn't have to, but he does.

 

"Tonight, solar club, 8pm. We'll 'discuss'," he puts a faint stress on the word, "The Amber Spyglass vs. The Lion the witch and the wardrobe."

 

Dean hikes it out the door before Cas has a chance to refuse. It's a stupid hope he might actually show up but Dean needs a long drink either way.

 

* * *

 

"You busy tonight?" Sam asks as Dean changes into a black button down shirt open over a green tee and jeans.

 

"Maybe. Why squirt?"

 

Sam leans in the doorway. "I was due to have a conference with my client but he's cancelled because of work and so I'm not doing anything."

 

Dean smiles at his brother. "Aw Sammy I'd love to hang out but I kinda said I'd meet my lit partner."

 

"Oh, you said maybe?"

 

"Whether he shows has long odds, but hey what's a guy to do?"

 

Sam gives him a long look, like he's trying to figure Dean's angle here. "Text me if he doesn't show? I was thinking I'd head to the Roadhouse."

 

"I'll be in Solar Bar."

 

He heads out after clapping his brother on his shoulder. Dean hates leaving the kid but he's spent a long time getting over his protection and abandonment issues. He knows Sam's stronger than him.

 

He passes Cas's house on the way onto campus. The lights are off but knowing Cas he could still be at the lab.

 

Solar Bar is half empty on a Wednesday. The students are saving themselves for the weekend and partied out after sports night.

 

Dean picks an empty table after buying a Jack and Coke. He hates the waiting and so brings out his copy of Good Omens. The pages are curled and yellowed. This is a book well read.

 

8 o'clock passes. Dean ignores the clock as it ticks half past.

 

His mind's wandering on the text, barely taking in lines he scans. His thoughts are on Cas and what exactly he's trying to achieve by tonight. Midterms still not for weeks and they haven't even got their essay title yet.

 

It's 9.30 and Dean considers getting out his phone to text Sam when Cas arrives.

 

He glances at Dean before turning to the bar. Bastard doesn't even nod. He orders a drink, a cranberry juice?

 

Dean watches him the whole time. Cas is wearing jeans. There's a hole in his left knee. His shirt is a deep indigo that makes his eyes shine all the brighter. The cut of his black leather jacket shows off his perfect ass like that's its soul responsibility.

 

Cas takes his time when the drink is put down in front of him, sliding his wallet back inside his jacket and picking up a serviette to dry the bottom of his glass.

 

He picks his way slowly between the tables before carefully placing his drink across from Dean. Dean snaps his book shut around his finger.

 

"Not even a sorry I'm late?" he asks as Cas sits silently.

 

"I'm not sorry. I'm here now."

 

Dean's jaw almost drops. Oh how he hates this self-entitled asshole.

 

"I did not want to come," Cas adds looking around the student bar with its cheap fake-wood tables and sticky floor.

 

"Gees Cas, tell me how you really feel."

 

"I feel agitated and irritated. I have a lot of work to do and I do not like going to bars. Yet here I am."

 

Dean realises that this isn't just an intrusion for Cas. This is something he is acutely uncomfortable with. He's as proud and unmoving as ever, Cas's fears never show but his words are plain enough. He doesn't want to be here. Yet he came.

 

"It's not so bad." Dean manages a smile. "You like to discuss literature, come on."

 

He slides over Good Omens to Cas.

 

"So Crowley?"

 

Cas does have opinions on Crowley and they're surprisingly positive. He likes how Crowley isn't a very good demon. He likes his acts of evil, especially the M25 and TV in welsh.

 

He's also a fan of the ducks, which makes Dean laugh till he's spluttering. Cas watches him confused, head tilted slightly to one side.

 

Dean counters that Crowley shows many of the themes in Paradise Lost Cas had argued against. Cas counters that Crowley isn't evil, that's an important part of the book.

 

It's midnight before Dean realises they've been in a back and forth for two hours. Cas is still arguing, hands gesturing at the empty glass in front of him. Dean had convinced him (easily enough) to have a pint and it had gone straight to the guy’s head, followed by the three after that.

 

Dean's still pretty with it but he still orders a round of shots just to see what it will do to Cas.

 

Cas stares at the small glass as if it's going to sprout wings and teeth.

 

"Down in one," Dean explains.

 

With a single finger and thumb Cas picks the shot up. Dark amber liquid with a lime sitting atop.

 

Dean's feeling bold and kind of affable towards the guy, so he leans forward and picks up Cas's packet of salt and his unresisting hand.

 

"Like this," he says bringing the hand to his mouth, licking a stripe above the thumb and dousing it with the salt before doing the same to his own.

 

Cas's eyes are swimming as he watches. He doesn't even pull away despite Dean tonguing him far too intimately for just a shot.

 

"Salt, shot, lime," Dean points.

 

"I don't drink Dean," Cas says in a surprisingly steady voice.

 

"Yeah you do. Bottoms up." He pushes Cas's hand to his mouth to lick the salt as he licks at his own. The shots follow and Cas coughs and forgets the lime till Dean shoves it between his lips.

 

After that Dean's head is swimming too. He's aware of Cas talking long and low about of all things Hellblazer but is too enthralled by the way Cas's hands flicker on the edge of the table.

 

He hates this guy he reminds himself.

 

* * *

 

Dean cuts Cas off after that. He's not sure he can handle a completely drunken Cas. This Cas is more pliant and easy, but just as intelligent and argumentative.

 

2am sees them arguing over the point of Tom Bombadil.

 

Cas is sobering, his eyes steadier. The intensity is back, the unflinching gaze that unsettles Dean as much as it turns him on.

 

"Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow, Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow," Dean proclaims for no reason whatsoever other than to annoy Cas.

 

"Well if that is the best you can come up with."

 

"It's 2am and god knows how many drinks later man, lay off for a while."

 

Cas looks at his watch in surprise. "I have a meeting in 6 hours," he mewls, actually sounding annoyed that morning would come so soon.

 

"So skip it."

 

"I can't. It is important."

 

He tries to stand and Dean sees where all that alcohol's gone. Cas is good at keeping his head when drunk but he loses motor control. Dean stands and gets a shoulder under Cas's to keep him on his feet.

 

* * *

 

"Good day?" Dean asks Sam as he gets in late.

 

"Not really sure," Sam confides. "This case scares me Dean."

 

"Still can't tell me anything?"

 

"No. And I wouldn't want to anyway. I'm not sure I can do this Dean."

 

"Don't be stupid," Dean laughs automatically but he stills on seeing the look on Sam's face. "Sammy you're wrong," he says changing from big bro the man who practically raised the kid since their mother died when Sam was only 6 months old. Dean was more of a father to Sam than John ever was. He worked from as young as he could to buy Sam small presents, to put him through college, to keep a roof over his head. "You're strong enough. You're the strongest kid I've ever known. After everything you've survived how can you think yourself weak? Whatever this guy's been through he needs someone like you to stand by his side. Because you understand what it's like to have the worst happen and be strong enough to break out the other side."

 

He holds a hand out and Sam comes into his arms, hugging him like he did when he was a little kid, one hand on top of his head as Sam breaths into his neck.

 

His little brother, always.

 

"It's so messed up Dean."

 

"Yeah, welcome to the big boys world." He lets Sam go, pats him on the shoulder before pulling out some chicken. Tonight Dean's cooking. "You want to change it then you help this poor bastard and maybe it won't happen again."

 

Sam nods. He'd said the same thing himself the week before. He knows Dean's right, just that some things are hard, even for a man with a history like Sam Winchesters.

 

* * *

 

There are police cars at the main entrance to the university the next day. It's strange, so many. The police officers are lolling around, unsure of what they're supposed to be doing. Dean changes his route, skirts around them, watching what they're doing but coming up blank.

 

He finds more cars down the street, one is on Cas's driveway. His lit partner comes storming out the house looking older and more mature than Dean has ever seen him. He's close now, just the other side of a police line.

 

"No," Cas is saying loud enough to carry. "I'm not leaving. This is my home now."

 

"Sir please, you realise what this means?"

 

The suit talking to him doesn't look like police. FBI, Dean thinks remembering what Ash had said. He'd pulled files from the FBI on Cas.

 

"I'm not running away. I have my studies to finish. Now do your job and find this guy."

 

There's thunder in the blue. Dean feels a chill run up his spine, Cas can be a badass when he wants to be.

 

Cas storms back inside and Dean slips round the police tape, jumping the back fence and sliding in through an open window.

 

Cas's house is as sparse as Ash had described. Dean frowns at how empty it is. There's not a single appliance on the kitchen worktops. He opens a cupboard door to find nothing. There aren't even any dishes in the sink.

 

Perhaps Cas lives off Starbucks coffee.

 

The kitchen is joined to an open plan living room. No TV, no coffee table, just a busted up sofa that was probably left behind by the prior resident.

 

And books.

 

There's a pile of text books against the wall, journals and a few paperback novels.

 

Dean carries on into the hall, again empty except for Cas's trainers.

 

Dean's not even sure he's ever seen Cas in trainers. These are well used and muddy. Who knew?

 

There's a creak from upstairs and so Dean follows, coming face to face with Cas at his bedroom door.

 

"Holy shit Cas," Dean breathes after he jumps. "You scared me man."

 

Cas looks confused for a moment, then angry.

 

"What are you doing in my house?"

 

Dean shrugs. He doesn't know what possessed him to climb in through Cas's window with police ringing the house and FBI agents watching.

 

"I saw the police and thought what the hey, always wanted to play escape from Alcatraz."

 

"It's as if you want to be arrested."

 

Dean shrugs before grinning.

 

"What happened?"

 

"I can't tell you. It's classified information."

 

"So you're not a serial killer right? Just checking."

 

"Maybe, but they don't know either. The police are here for my protection."

 

Dean scants a look across at Cas. Trust the guy to make a joke about something so morbid.

 

"They letting you out?"

 

"I'm not under arrest."

 

"Coffee then?"

 

Cas shakes his head. Dean isn't sure, can't quite see it but he wonders if Cas is scared. The police are, he can tell that much. The university is jammed with them, there are four cars on the road outside Cas's house.

 

"Do you even have any coffee here?"

 

Cas shakes his head. "I do not spend much time here."

 

"Then I'm going Starbucks."

 

When Cas makes no move to follow Dean sighs and tells himself he's being a fucking idiot. "Just leave the window open."

 

* * *

 

Climbing back through isn't as easy with two hot coffees. He manages it with minor burns heading through the house to find Cas.

 

He's at the front door, speaking to an agent.

 

"Back window's open," Dean says thumbing over his shoulder after handing Cas his coffee. "You guys should probably look to that."

 

"Mr Novak?"

 

"I needed coffee," Cas shrugs and shuts the door in the agents face.

 

* * *

 

Dean sits on Cas's bed and lifts his legs up to stretch down the sheets. He tilts slightly to the middle with the curve of the mattress. Cas sleeps alone.

 

He doesn't know why but it makes him smile.

 

Cas is standing by the wardrobe. The bedroom has more furniture than the rest of the house but that's like saying that England has more people than Scotland when comparing it to India.

 

There's an open suitcase at the bottom of the bed. Cas still hasn't properly unpacked.

 

"You going to be in lit tomorrow?" Dean asks as Cas contemplates his suits.

 

"Maybe," he mumbles only half paying attention.

 

"This is bad huh?"

 

"Yes Dean. This is 'bad'."

 

"Hey how am I supposed to know, you tell me nothing."

 

"Why would I?"

 

"I don't know. Because who else are you going to tell?"

 

"Nobody."

 

Cas pulls a dark suit from the wardrobe. It's not quite black, a blue so deep it could easily be mistaken though. He hangs in on the door and brushes the front down.

 

Dean knows what it's like to be alone. He was alone even before his father died. Sam was a child back then, he couldn't understand.

 

He knows how much he needed someone to lean on, someone to listen and suggest ways his ten year old mind couldn't see.

 

Dean wasn't one for friends back then. He was just as much a loner as Cas is now. He fought and he kicked and he refused to let anyone in. He would push away anyone that tried to help, burned one too many times by those who let him down. Because everybody did in the end. Apart from Sam, but Sam was too young.

 

He didn't want Cas to feel that way.

 

Eventually Dean had got through the woods. He'd got his brother back, his own apartment, a job and a little money for Sammy. He'd begun to open up again. He let Ellen give him extra hours and he let Jo push extra fries onto his plate. He let Ash make him laugh. He let Singer allow him into his garage.

 

He wasn't close to any of them, not really, he was still too wary and skittish. It was a start.

 

"I hope nobody's a good listener then."

 

* * *

 

The drainpipe just about holds and Dean is grateful that it's a warm night so that Cas's window is open. He swings onto the sill, all but falling onto the bed and the sleepy man below.

 

"Whoa there tiger," Dean laughs as Cas jumps up, getting caught in the sheets.

 

"Dean?"

 

"Hey Cas."

 

He untangles himself, moves to sit cross legged in front of his lit partner.

 

Cas is shirtless, the moonlight showing off a broad chest, defined pecs and a flat stomach. Dean lets his eyes wander for a moment as Cas fumbles for the light, his back a long curve as yellow light floods the room.

 

It takes Cas a moment to compose himself. Soon though he's sitting with his usual intense and irritated stare like he's not in just his underwear.

 

"There are still police outside watching."

 

"Yeah. They've stepped up from the other day. One was actually doing a round of your house. I had to wait for him to disappear round the corner."

 

"And why did you feel the need to break into my house at 1am?"

 

That's the 6 billion dollar question. Dean can't quite answer it himself.

 

"You missed class today," he settles on.

 

Cas nods. Dean hasn't seen him on campus since the police arrived.

 

"Dr Mills gave us the midterm question," he continues. "I told her you were having some problems at the moment but I'd make sure you got it."

 

It's not really a reason to break in after midnight, but Dean's not really thinking about how crazy he's being.

 

"You didn't have to."

 

"Yeah but I did so suck it." The defensiveness running through Dean is nothing new but he's surprised by how easily Cas raises his walls. Dean's constantly trapped in a battle trying to protect himself. He's scared for himself but he has no idea why.

 

Sam is ok, he tells himself. He's almost finished his undergraduate degree. He's got a good apartment, a job, a future.

 

Cas makes him doubt all those things.

 

"Thank you Dean."

 

For the first time Cas actually sounds grateful. Dean picks at the sheets around his knees and tries not to think about how that's probably the first time he's heard Cas be grateful to anyone since he's known him.

 

It only lasts a moment though as Cas studies the page Dean hands to him.

 

"The lion, the witch and the wardrobe would be a better choice."

 

"I swear to god Cas. Fine, you win. We'll do Narnia."

 

He falls sideways, letting the pillows cover his annoyance and his smile.

 

The bed smells like Cas, of wind and blue skies, icy water and distant sunshine.

 

He feels the mattress move as Cas gets up. He can hear everything as the front door opens and Cas calls a policeman over.

 

"Once was a mistake, twice I could just about understand. But that man has climbed in through my window three times now. He's barely a criminal mastermind, so you might as well go home."

 

He slams the door before he gets an answer. Dean can hear the commotion outside the house as Cas makes his way up the stairs once more.

 

"Idiots."

 

Cas's annoyance at someone other than Dean is cute. Dean laughs into the pillow, receives a prod in his back for his amusement.

 

"Shall we begin?"

 

Dean sits up once more and shakes his head. "You need your beauty sleep Cas."

 

He pushes up, can't help if his eyes touch Cas's mostly naked figure in the soft light. He'd thought Cas would be one for pyjamas. He's not disappointed to be proved wrong.

 

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep now anyway."

 

Cas doesn't even have a TV. "Fine," Dean sighs as if it's something he's doing against his will.

 

* * *

 

Cas doesn’t' get dressed. Uncomfortable now Dean sits and tries not to stare. It's easier thought than done as the low light throws shadows across Cas's already lickable chest.

 

He manages half an hour of rather one sided debate before Cas stops and sets him with a glare.

 

"What is it?"

 

"What is what?"

 

"You're quiet?"

 

"I don't do my best work at 2am, I've told you that before."

 

Cas huffs in annoyance. He's got a page of ideas scrawled already across his knee.

 

"You thought about what you're going to do once you finish your PhD?" Dean asks when the silence stretches out too long.

 

Possibly he's made things even more awkward. "I don't know yet," Cas answers eventually. "There are many different variables."

 

"It's not a science experiment Cas. It's life? You must have an idea?"

 

Cas screws up his face in annoyance, trying to keep his anger in.

 

"I like my research," he concedes. "I like teaching." He tilts his head, deep in thought now. "But perhaps I should jack it all in and travel to Bolivia."

 

Dean raises his eyebrows at the confession. He had Cas pegged as the type to be married to his work.

 

"Sounds awesome."

 

"We'll see."

 

Cas finally puts his book down, trapping his notes in the pages. He drops it to the floor gently.

 

"What about you Dean?"

 

"You want to know?"

 

Cas shrugs. "I asked."

 

"Dunno really. I got this far. That's more than I thought I’d ever manage."

 

Cas's eyes roam his face, as if he's trying to pull the story from Dean's face.

 

"I, uh, I dropped out of high school when I was 15. State pushed me back in, telling me I'd never get custody of my brother if I fucked up high school." He rolls his lip between his teeth remembering how scared he'd been that they were right. He'd finished high school with grades as good as they could be since he'd dropped out. He'd worked his butt off for Sammy, just as he always did. "After that I worked every hour I could to keep him." He laughs at himself, the punk he'd been and the strength of his baby brother. "Little shit ran away from every foster home they got him into until they gave up and let me have him. They came round every day for a month, every week for a year."

 

Cas actually seems to be smiling. Dean can't be sure. Cas doesn't smile like most people but there are small signs, the crinkle of his eyes, his mouth a straighter line than usual.

 

"He's a lawyer now. Proper big shot."

 

Cas tilts his head, his usual confusion mixed now with his faint amusement. "You sound different when you speak of him."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Not so cocksure."

 

Dean's eyebrows go up at the sound of Cas mouthing cock. He has to blink several times to clear his head.

 

"It's a mask is it not Dean?"

 

The question makes him endlessly uncomfortable. "I don't even know," he answers and it's the most honest thing he can think. "My turn to make you uncomfortable, why are you even asking me these questions? I didn't think you cared."

 

Cas continues to look at him as if he's simultaneously the most interesting and infuriating thing he's ever seen.

 

"I didn't," he says. "I mean I don't, care, about most people I meet. Especially now." Cas averts his eyes, looking now at the open window but Dean doesn't think he sees it. "I have always felt detached. I have few friends. There are few people I care enough to talk to and I am content in that."

 

But he'd asked Dean those questions, had listened attentively to his answers.

 

"I used to play along, ask the right questions, appear to be listening. Now I cannot find the energy."

 

"You like to argue though."

 

"Yes. I find Milton fascinating. His ideas, the way he shapes his verse."

 

Dean nods along. He knows what Cas means.

 

"You exhaust me Dean."

 

It hits Dean dead centre of his chest, a tiny spark of pain as Cas wipes a hand over his face and lies himself out on his side of the bed.

 

"But I find you fascinating too."

 

* * *

 

Dean's mouth is dry, he can't swallow. Cas had rolled over so his back was towards Dean, his boxers riding low on his back and he is all hipbones and back dimples.

 

Dean fights the urge to pull him back.

 

He's aware of just how big Cas's declaration is though and so he stands, walks off the bed before turning to pull on one of Cas's toes.

 

"You'll be there Monday right?"

 

Rolling onto his back Cas studies Dean, one leg bent at the knee so the shorts stretch up and Dean has to focus on Cas's face unless he starts to think of...

 

Too late.

 

Looking at Cas's eyes isn't much of a help either.

 

"I'll be there Dean."

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn't stop as the police turn, surprised by the man walking out of their supposedly impenetrable house. He gives them a big smile and a wave.

 

He hopes they do a better job about anyone who actually wants to hurt Cas.

 

Sam's up when he gets back, getting ready for an early meeting.

 

"Where've you been?" Sam asks all suspicion.

 

"Broke into a mate’s house. Police weren't too happy."

 

"The hell Dean?"

 

"Keep your panties on Samantha. It's a joke, ok, laugh."

 

Sam sneers, lip raised.

 

"It's 5am Dean."

 

"Oh is that why the sun's not up?"

 

Sam shakes his head, brushing back his overlong hair. "You know you can tell me if you're seeing anyone."

 

"I know. But I'm not. Just a friend."

 

Sam though has known Dean for too long to be pushed off track that easily.

 

"Just a friend," he repeats. "But you're crushing?"

 

Dean rolls his eyes and heads into the kitchen. He grabs a coke from the fridge wondering vaguely if he should try sleeping. Auto shop isn't until 11 so he's got some time to kill.

 

"Who is he?"

 

"Just some guy in my religious lit class."

 

"A friend or a "friend"."

 

"He's not exactly the "friend" type," Dean says copying Sam's finger quotes.

 

"He's straight?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Dean," Sam whines. "Do not fall in love with the guy if you're not sure he's gay."

 

"Not like I have a choice Sammy. Anyway, who says I'm falling for him? He's a dick."

 

"I'd have been less worried if you'd told me he was a 'nice guy'."

 

"Ha ha."

 

Dean's not really sure how to describe Cas. He tries because Sam's gazing down on him with puppy dog eyes and Dean never could deny the kid anything.

 

"I hate him, but actually I don't. We argue, constantly. So much so that Dr Mills banned us from talking in class a few times. He knows how to piss me off with every word that comes out his mouth. We're stuck doing this stupid midterm paper together which makes it a thousand times worse. The one day we didn't argue Dr Mills asked if we were ok."

 

He hates Cas, how arrogant and distant he is. But he knows he just has to chip away at the man and he'll discover nights like tonight. The question of whether it's worth it or not still lingers.

 

"We arranged to meet to discuss the paper and he turns up 2 hours late." There were some slight exaggerations there but Dean felt he deserved them. "I dropped his ass into bed and left."

 

"And tonight?"

 

"He missed class so I kinda broke in through his bedroom window."

 

"Dean!"

 

"Context Sammy. You don't know the context."

 

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'm going to be late. But we will discuss this later Dean." He grabs up his bags. "Try not to break into any more houses while I'm gone," he shouts back as he leaves.

 

* * *

 

Dean arrives to religious lit early and finds Cas sitting in his usual seat. He can't help the grin that breaks across his face.

 

"Finally broke out the castle princess?"

 

Cas scowls at him before rolling his eyes.

 

"Don't make me regret it Dean."

 

He watches as Dean sits, sighing as he enjoys the normalcy of the class, arguing with Cas.

 

"After you broke in again I told them they had to either step up their efforts or leave. They didn't have the resources so they left."

 

"And now you can see the sun again. Hint don't look directly at it, it burns."

 

Cas sighs deeply but Dean detects he's not as annoyed as he usually is.

 

"There are plainclothes officers stationed down the street but they too are surprisingly easy to slip."

 

Dean laughs at that. "Go Cas you badass."

 

"We should not be toying with them Dean."

 

"They should be doing they're fucking job. I broke in three times, you're lucky I didn't want to kill you - at that moment," he adds.

 

"I'm not worried."

 

"Maybe you should be. I know you can't tell me but they're there for a reason right?"

 

"Yes."

 

* * *

 

Cas waits for him after class and it's then that Dean realises something has shifted in their relationship.

 

Before they had been antagonists with common interests. Now they were verging on an uneasy friendship.

 

They talk as they walk, about inane things. Cas seems to be actually interested as Dean speaks of how he's going to head out on a road trip with Sam in their reading week.

 

"Shouldn't we be writing out paper then?"

 

Dean shrugs. "We've got plenty of time. Sam could only get Tuesday to Friday off anyway so it's not like I'll be gone all week." The solution roles from his tongue before he even has a chance to process it. "You could come with."

 

As soon as it's out he wants to snatch the words back, cram them into his stupid mouth and swallow them down. Not because he wouldn't want Cas along with them, but because it's a stupid thing to ask the guy he's been practically at one step away from hitting for a month now.

 

"We've got another, what, three weeks after anyway."

 

"I've got things to do Dean."

 

"Yeah you always say that. What's so damn important Cas? Your research can survive a week."

 

He's pushing he knows, afraid Cas is going to snap back at any moment, but instead he just sighs and shakes his head.

 

"Is it to do with the cops at your house? Because a road trip would be perfect. Right that's it."

 

Now he's definitely gone too far. Cas should have booted him in the ass by now but the other man is strangely subdued. Everything is getting to him.

 

"I'll swing by Tuesday, not sure how long we'll be gone. Just planning on driving west, might make it as far as Salt Lake City. You seen Great Salt Lake before?"

 

Cas shakes his head and Dean's not sure if he should keep on pushing.

 

Instead he holds his silence, just walks side by side with the man till they have to split ways, Cas to the biosciences lab and Dean to auto shop.

 

* * *

 

Singer doesn't care that Dean turns up late for shop. The rest of the students are already busy with their products so he heads straight for the mustang.

 

"Think you could squeeze an extra grand out the guy?" Dean asks when Singer comes over.

 

"Hmm why?" Singer asks suspiciously.

 

"She's gonna be almost perfect."

 

"And it's the almost part that bugs you."

 

"Yeah. She's so close but it's been harder to find original parts than I thought. I've never done a '67 before."

 

"I'll have a talk with him. Though he's probably missing his baby by now."

 

Dean scowls at the way Singer says baby, he's mocking him and his attachment to his own girl.

 

"Look if he wants his mustang to be as perfect as my impala then he'll have to cough up."

 

"I don't doubt he will."

 

Dean gets back to the car, trading the engine now for the brakes. They're in good order, but good's not enough for Dean Winchester.

 

* * *

 

Cas looks thoroughly miserable in the next class they share.

 

"I... need to talk to you..." he says as Dean comes to stand beside his desk.

 

"Come on." Cas is reluctant to leave but Dean can see his head isn't in the game. He pulls him up, packs his bag for him before shoving him out past a confused Dr Mills. "He's not feeling well," Dean explains but doesn't stop walking. "I'll get him home. The essay's going well. See you after the break."

 

He pushes Cas ahead of him till they reach the Starbucks where Dean deposits him in the corner to gets them both a drink. He's worried. Cas is normally so strong, too strong. Nothing seems to get through his stone skin. Now though he looks as if he's about to break apart.

 

Or maybe not.

 

As Dean turns he sees Cas sitting straight and talking to an older looking man.

 

All the fragility has gone from Cas. He's back to being impervious and unyielding.

 

He reminds dean of how he'd been when they'd first met, a statue of a man, graceful but held to such rigidity he was alien in his composure.

 

Dean stands back as they talk, he can hear the conversation if he concentrates.

 

"No."

 

"Mr Novak this is important."

 

"And I said no."

 

"Your research..."

 

"...is going well. I'm ahead of schedule. I'm on top of my teaching and I’ve prepared everything for your next week of experiments."

 

The man narrows his eyes. Dean sees how dangerous he is, wants to jump in but knows there is nothing he can do. That and Cas can take care of himself.

 

He pushes to his feet. "Dr Uriel?"

 

"I find your lack of devotion disturbing."

 

"You want to fire me? Then go ahead, but you will have to complete your own research. I'm not sure you quite know where you're up to, do you?"

 

Cas holds Uriel's eyes for longer than Dean had thought possible. The man in front of him is a monster, all flab and muscle.

 

"And we wouldn't want the test data to go missing, would we?"

 

Uriel's eyes open wide. Cas has him by the short and curlys.

 

"You have me for another eight months. That's if you still want me in your lab. I can always plead personal difficulties and move to another university to finish my PhD. I'd rather not have to, but I could."

 

The threat is low and sweet. Dean wants to whoop and punch the air. He refrains as Uriel growls out a "fine" and leaves.

 

Dean rushes over to a still scowling Cas. He still looks like an oncoming storm, eyes tight, the blue searing.

 

He flinches as Dean touches his arm to get his attention.

 

"I do not like that man," he mutters before turning fully to Dean and taking his coffee.

 

"You are too awesome," Dean grins.

 

He's not sure in the poorly lit shop but he thinks Cas might flush a little at his compliment.

 

"He will suffer a catastrophic loss of date once my PhD is finished," Cas coughs and Dean's sure his discomfort doesn't come from his cold threat.


	3. His Dark Materials

It's as if the run in with Dr Uriel gives Cas new strength to pass the day. Dean feels weird bringing up what happened in class with this harsh eyed man and so he doesn't. He reads, lying on the grass in front of Cas's bench as Cas flips through research journals.

 

Occasionally Dean reads a passage out loud, or Cas interrupts to ask where he's up to.

 

The afternoon's wearing on as Dean realises he's missed his classes for the day. He lifts himself to the bench beside Cas, pushing him aside so he can cross his legs and read to him.

 

"What of art?” He eyes Cas who catches on immediately.

 

“It is a malady.”

 

“Love?"

 

"An illusion," Cas replies smooth and sure. He's still reading his journal but his eyes don't move.

 

"Religion."

 

"A fashionable substitute for belief." Cas looks up then, not quite sure if he got it right.

 

"You are a sceptic!"

 

"Scepticism is the beginning of faith."

 

"What are you?" Dean asks, no longer quoting from the book.

 

"To define is to limit."

 

"No seriously. You remember all that?"

 

Cas shrugs closing his copy of the PNAS. At any other time Dean would have laughed at the name.

 

"It is one of my favourite books." He holds Dean's eyes for a minute before pulling a flyer from his pocket. "I was thinking I would go out tonight."

 

Dean doesn't make the joke that automatically springs to mind. He knows it wouldn't help. His friendship with Cas is precarious, he won't embarrass the man he hadn't even realised was able to feel embarrassment.

 

"You asking me to come?"

 

Cas is thoroughly unpractised at friendship. He shrugs, unable to voice his desire.

 

"Yes I suppose. I would not normally but I think maybe I would like that."

 

Dean grins. "You can enjoy spending time with someone you know, or does that go against the laws of Casdom?"

 

Cas frowns, irritated once more by Dean's stupidity. Dean just laughs.

 

"You love me really." He studies the flyer, trying not to flush at his unthought through words. "This is across town."

 

"We'll get a taxi."

 

"What about the police escort?"

 

Dean hasn't failed to notice the plainclothes outside Starbucks.

 

"You need to go home for anything?"

 

Cas furrows his brows, completely at a loss and Dean takes that to mean no. He hurries the man across campus, pulling them down side streets and through buildings till he's sure they're not followed.

 

Then he heads home, Cas following him, lost, confused but persistent.

 

* * *

 

Sam won't be home till late so Dean fires off a text and grabs himself and Cas a beer.

 

"I don't drink," Cas reiterates as he stares at the bubbling bottle.

 

"No you've just never had the cause before. You can't be a mysterious loner when I'm here too so drink up."

 

Cas takes a begrudging swig, sitting down at Dean's breakfast bar.

 

"You can hate me tomorrow when you're hung over and your ears won't stop ringing."

 

Dean disappears into his room to change. He could use a shower but he doesn't want to leave Cas for that long. He's still half convinced the man will spook and disappear on him. That'd be a very Cas thing to do.

 

Instead he wanders in after Dean, examining the little parts of Dean's life he's got strewn over the apartment. Dean's not surprised, his place is so very different to Cas's. It's not cluttered but it is full, homely. Dean always bring back trinkets from the Winchester brothers road trips. He frames photos because he never had any as a kid. He keeps books and programs from baseball games. He has bottle openers from Michigan, beer glasses from LA. He has a plastic copy of the statue of liberty, a plaster cast bald eagle the size of his thumb from Washington.

 

Cas takes it all in, serious eyes roaming every surface of Dean's home.

 

He picks up a trophy from the radiator cover by Dean's bed.

 

"It's Sam's," Dean tells him as he tries to pick out a shirt. "He never was any good at football but he kept on trying. Most improved. It's almost an insult but I was so proud of him."

 

Cas sets it down with reverence.

 

"Look I'm going to take a shower. You want one?"

 

"I have nothing to change into."

 

Dean looks the man up and down, taking his time to appreciate the lines of Cas's body.

 

"Those jeans will do. I'll lend you a shirt. Hop in now and I'll see what I’ve got."

 

He steers Cas into the bathroom, chucking him a clean towel before heading back to his wardrobe. He's got a few nice shirts, most courtesy of Sam's various achievements. The black one's from his graduation, the red from his championship game. The green Dean brought when Sam got his job at the law firm. It's more his colour than Cas's so he hangs it up for himself.

 

The showers turned off before he finds a shirt for Cas. It's a light grey that looks almost silver. It's never suited Dean, just doesn't go with his colouring but he thinks the silver will make Cas's tanned skin look even healthier, his eyes even more blue.

 

He's rewarded for his effort with a half-dressed Cas walking out into his room. The towel is around his shoulders, a few drops still running down his chest.

 

His jeans are slung low on his hips, the jut of his hipbones just too damn perfect.

 

Dean almost swallows his tongue and ends up coughing as he holds out the shirt to Cas.

 

Bad idea. Cas lifts his arms and spins the shirt on, his naked chest disappearing beneath silky material.

 

And gone.

 

Dean grabs his own clothes and shuts himself into the bathroom. He shouldn't be thinking about Cas naked and wet in his shower.

 

* * *

 

He finally manages to leave the water twenty minutes later when the boiler can't quite keep up with his continued demand.

 

He dresses quickly, scrubbing his hair in the foggy bathroom.

 

Outside Cas is sitting on his bed, legs crossed and reading a copy of Old Man's War he'd probably found in the stack beside Dean's bed.

 

He looks up as Dean exits the small room. Damn but that shirt is perfect for him. Dean coughs, wondering if he needs another cold shower.

 

"Ready?" he asks though it's still two hours before the gig officially begins. He can't stand to see Cas on his messy bed much longer. He needs to get out the apartment, grab another drink and drown his stupidity in beer.

 

Cas unfolds from the bed, long limbs flowing gracefully. Dean himself would have just tumbled off but Cas makes it look effortless.

 

* * *

 

Three shots later and Dean's feeling no less jittery. Cas is relaxed beside him. He's nursing a Guinness. He'd surprised himself as much as Dean by taking to the stuff like it was the mead of the gods.

 

Dean's not a fan but he makes a mental note to get some in.

 

The way Cas's thumb is trailing up the side of the glass and back, wiping lines into the condensation is enough to make Guinness Dean's new favourite drink.

 

He's talked some more about Sam and glanced over their father’s death. Cas flat out refused to be dragged into a conversation about his family, changing the subject with no finesse. Instead he talks of his enmity with Dr Uriel and the class he teaches. He even sounds quite fond of his students. He's annoyed that a girl named Rachel doesn't pay attention and secretly Dean sympathises with her. It can't be easy when your teacher is as hot as Cas is.

 

The gig sneaks up on them and before Dean realises it the stage has been set and the noise of the DJ grows louder. The opening acts will come on soon.

 

The place is starting to fill up and when a girl asks if she can join them he just nods.

 

It becomes quickly apparent that she doesn't just want to rest her feet.

 

She positions herself besides Cas in the booth and tries to forge a stunted conversation with the tight lipped man. The music's loud and she leans in, pressing up against him. She's pretty, with a short blonde pixy cut. She smiles, her lipstick stretched tight, her own soft pink bleeding through the broken red.

 

She's way too forward. Dean thinks most of it she's not even aware of but she's flashing Cas every sign.

 

His arms across the back of the booth so it takes nothing to drop it to Cas's shoulder, fingering the seam on his shoulder. Cas glances over at him. The stare he levelled on the blonde had been nothing compared to the look that goes between them then. Cas is intent at the best of times but now he's fierce.

 

Dean smiles lazily and beckons the girl to lean across so he can speak directly into her ear. "My boyfriend and I are kinda busy here."

 

Her eyes go so wide Dean's scared they'll pop out her head. Twinned with a deep red flush she looks truly freaked out. He sits back and Cas is telling her he'd rather drink cyanide than talk to her or something like that. He continues to stroke Cas's shoulder and she must get the idea as she all but runs from the table.

 

Dean doesn't immediately remove his arm. He keeps it rested on Cas's shoulder and waits for Cas to turn back to him. When the blue eyed man does they are far too close, pressed together in the booth.

 

"She was hitting on you Cas."

 

"I know."

 

"She was pretty."

 

"I know."

 

Asshole. Cas is blank faced, all shining eyes and strong dimpled chin.

 

"I told her I did not want to participate."

 

The straight, reasonable way he says it makes Dean laugh. He stands as the first band come out on stage. Together they make their way to the back of the floor. It's not exactly full in the small club but there are enough people not to be lonely.

 

* * *

 

Cas is a stiff observer. He watches with wide eyes, taking in every chord and badly worded lyric. In the gaps between bands Dean plies him with alcohol, trying to loosen the rigid man.

 

He's not sure it's working. Cas remains as intent as ever on the music. He doesn't dance or mosh as the rest of the crowd does. He's enjoying himself though, Dean knows him well enough to see that.

 

Before the final act come on he leans forward to say, "You want to head to the front?"

 

Cas doesn't answer and Dean assumes that's because he's too clueless to admit to wanting anything. He puts his hands on Cas's hips from behind, leaning in so that his mouth is right next to Cas's ear. "Cas?"

 

He sees the small bob of Cas's head and starts him forward, keeping his hands on Cas's subtle hips as they make their way through the crowd.

 

He uses the crowd as an excuse to keep his hands on Cas. He doesn't want to get separated. That's his defence anyway.

 

The band is a mess of genres and instruments. And it works. Dean finds himself loving the music from the first chord. His fingers push into Cas's hips as he moves to the rhythm and when the first chorus kicks in he finds Cas moving with him.

 

It's wild and sweaty and the best gig Dean's ever been to. He keeps his hands on Cas's hips, feeling the shift of strong muscle as he moves. A guy looks them up and down and Dean glares at him till he backs down. He lets his forehead fall to Cas's shoulder, laughter coming in waves.

 

When Cas puts his hand over his own Dean is able to look up again awed by the laughter in Cas. The man is letting more show on his face than ever before. He turns away, brushing back against Dean as he sings under his breath. He drinks as Dean reaches for him, lets him hold his shoulders and raise his arm high as the crowd punches the air.

 

* * *

 

Cas goes still when the lead singer drags out an acoustic guitar.

 

"You ok?" Dean asks in the break between instruments.

 

Cas doesn't answer but he does rest his shoulder against Dean's. He's looking down, at the floor covered in plastic cups where've they've carved their own part in the pit.

 

The song is beautiful and sad and so acoustic it makes Dean shiver. He turns part way through so his back's to the stage and he's sheltering Cas from the words.

 

* * *

 

Cas is exhausted, partially drunk and sleepy as they leave the club just after midnight. Dean walks him through the streets of the cities hub as they look for a taxi. He's just glad of a chance to touch Cas, wrap his arm around his waist to keep him on his feet.

 

"You're a bad drunk," he tells him.

 

"I want to sleep."

 

The sleepy voice from half lidded eyes is deeply endearing in the orange lights of night. Dean pulls him closer and takes more of their weight.

 

"Not till we're home," he smiles into Cas's dark hair. He smells like beer and sweat, late nights and loud music now.

 

"The plain clothes will be waiting."

 

"Then stay with me. Let them freak out for a few more hours."

 

They've pulled up in front of Dean's apartment before Cas speaks again, out on the cold pavement.

 

"What do you want from me Dean?"

 

"Huh?" Dean rounds on him. He'd been reaching to open the door, Cas remaining still at the curb. He looks abandoned, ragged and exhausted.

 

"I can give you nothing."

 

Dean's not in the best state to try and decipher Cas's cryptic bullshit when he's drunk and strung out after a long night of watching Cas way too closely.

 

"I'm not asking for anything," he says slow and careful. Cas is a bird ready to fly at that moment, a tiger prowling the inner wall of his cage. "The hell dude?"

 

Frustration splits Cas's face. He doesn't know how to say what he wants and it grinds at him. Dean's almost as pissed at him, he should remember to hate this man. This man who can't express anything about himself, is so reluctant to that it takes Dean breaking into his house to form any kind of almost friendship.

 

"Look, whatever, sleep on the porch for all I care."

 

He shoves the front door open with enough force to rattle the glass and wake half the residents.

 

He's half up the first flight of stairs when he stops himself. He was going to be gentle with Cas, was going to move carefully. He doesn't understand the man behind the wall and blue eyes yet, has been attempting to break him down, but he's not there yet.

 

He was close earlier, when they danced and laughed and Dean's fingers played with the loops of Cas's jeans. It makes it so much harder now Cas has retreated again.

 

"Coming?" Dean asks with exasperation.

 

Cas clenches his jaw, but he follows Dean into the apartment.

 

* * *

 

They hadn't spoken as they'd gotten changed. Cas had climbed into Dean's bed without a word and minutes later when Dean had finished in the bathroom he'd been too proud to be embarrassed by the man sleeping in his bed.

 

Dean wakes to a thigh between his own. There's a knee poking his stomach. He's spread out diagonally across the bed, sleeping almost perpendicular to Cas who is curled at the head.

 

He looks younger when he's asleep, hands curved under his chin, shoulders hunched.

 

Dean can't fathom how they ended up in this position, Cas curled in to knee him, the other leg stretched between his own. Dean's got one hand above his head, the other rested against Cas's knee.

 

For a moment he lies still, strokes the back of his fingers over the fine hair of Cas's thigh.

 

It's early and Cas is still sleeping deeply. Dean doesn't want to scare him so he carefully extricates himself from the huddle and heads out into the kitchen.

 

"Dean?" Sam exclaims when he wanders in.

 

"What's up?" Dean asks immediately convinced there's something wrong.

 

"I've got to go. I'm flying to Washington to meet with Crowley and Campbell."

 

Even Dean had heard of C&C. They were the sharks of the law industry. They were involved in every big case of the past 20 years. Sam was overawed by the skill and strength of their lawyers.

 

"Sam this is big right?"

 

"Yeah, pretty big. My case has attracted more attention than I'd thought."

 

"And you're just telling me now?"

 

"I got the call this morning."

 

"It's 6am."

 

"Not in DC."

 

Sam moves like a man possessed. He's nervous and excited and overwhelmed. Dean calms him enough for a quick hug.

 

"They're sending a car to take me to the airport," Sam buzzes. "Should be here in ten minutes. You gonna be ok?"

 

"A few days without my little bro. Na."

 

"You have a good night?"

 

Dean rolls his eyes. Of course Sam would think it was a date. And of course it's at that time that Cas decides to slam Dean's bathroom door.

 

"Very good," Sam decides.

 

Dean shoves at his little brother, suit or no he deserves it.

 

"It's not like that."

 

"Still not sure he's gay?"

 

"Still not sure I even like him."

 

Sam shakes his head. Something in his expression tells Dean he finds it hard always being the smarter brother. Dean rolls his eyes.

 

"You're so gone on him. You haven't even been on a date since the semester started."

 

Just drinks with Sam and arguments with Cas.

 

* * *

 

Cas stays for breakfast and Dean's amazed at how it's not terribly awkward. Maybe because Cas is always awkward and Dean is always a mess around him anyway.

 

He doesn't bring up the way they woke. He's not even sure if Cas is aware that they were entwined in his bed that morning.

 

"Why do people eat peanut butter?" Cas asks in all seriousness and Dean explodes with laughter. It's just so unexpected. He's been so lost in his own thoughts of awkwardness and embarrassment that he'd been ignoring the man sitting across from him.

 

"Because it's awesome," he frowns when he's finally managed to get a hold of himself.

 

Cas puts the jar down with a look of distaste.

 

"You even tried it?"

 

Cas shakes his head eyes still on the spread he can't understand.

 

Dean reaches for it, scoops it out with his finger and proceeds to dab it onto Cas's lower lip.

 

Cas recoils, shocked and looking so affronted that Dean falls into a laughter fit again. It's funnier because there's still a glaze of butter on Cas's lower lip.

 

He licks his own lips as Cas resists. He reaches for a tissue but Dean catches his wrists, presses them into the bench.

 

"Oh no you don't."

 

Cas can glare like he's powering up a laser beam. Stormy blue eyes set on Dean he may as well be charging his death ray.

 

He gives in eventually though, agile pink tongue licking the peanut butter up before flicking back into the cave of his mouth.

 

"Dean?" he says after a minute and Dean realises he's been way too intent on Cas's cracked lips, the deep lush bow and full lower lip.

 

"Saywhanow?"

 

"I would like more. Let go of my hands."

 

* * *

 

It's 10.30 and Dean hasn't brought up leaving the apartment yet. It's the last day of their reading week and he's already missed his core lit class.

 

He can't bring himself to care.

 

Cas is laid out across the couch, dosing as they watch shitty day time television and Dean reads Keats on the floor, back pressed up against the couch.

 

Cas is woken by the ring of his phone, a rather boring old fashioned telephone bell. Dean immediately makes it his personal mission to change it.

 

Lazy and half asleep Cas answers with a huffed hi.

 

It takes only a few words for him to be wide awake and barely missing Dean's head as he swings his legs off the couch and stands.

 

He disappears into the next room and the door is shut.

 

Dean is leaning forward on his elbow. It's uncomfortable as hell but he can't seem to make himself sit back and relax. Cas has just shut him out and it feels like a fist to his gut.

 

Not that it's unexpected.

 

Dean reminds himself once more that he hates the guy but the lie has worn so thin he can't even grasp at its threads anymore.

 

Cas is provocative and interesting. He's intense and inscrutable.

 

Dean hates that in him, so much that in fact he loves it. He wants to peel away the layers of Cas and knows he'll love what's underneath.

 

In the short time he's been working at stripping Cas down he's learnt Cas isn't impenetrable. He can laugh and he can leave his cocoon of work and solitude for a few hours without Dean having to drag him.

 

He's learnt that Cas would sleep wrapped up with his lover. Cas pulls into himself in sleep, curled up like a kitten. He doesn't snore, barely even breaths.

 

It takes twenty minutes for Cas to finish up his phone call and come back to the lounge. Dean's arm had given out minutes into the lonely stretch and Cas finds him lying on his side on the cold floor gazing up at him as he exits Sam's room.

 

"I apologise," he says stiffly and Dean can see any progress he made with the man overnight has been wiped out by that call. "I have to get to the police station."

 

Dean scrambles to his feet, socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

 

"Cas what is going on?"

 

Cas doesn't meet his eyes even as Dean ducks and tries to get in his way.

 

"I can't say."

 

"Bullshit. Cas come on." He doesn't think, just reacts, one hand goes to Cas's hip, the other to his shoulder, turning the man towards him and pleading for his eyes. "You gotta talk to someone about this."

 

"I'll speak with my lawyer properly later. Right now I need to meet the detective."

 

Dean feels sick at the hollowness in Cas's voice. It's a mask, it always has been. He might enjoy his solitude, like working all the hours god sends and hate bars and dates and fun, but he needs someone in this. This is something bigger than Dean had fathomed at first.

 

"I'll take you." He shakes his head at Cas's bitchface. "Well you're not gonna walk are you?"

 

* * *

 

Dean parks up in the lot of the police station and waits. He tells Cas he'll be there when he gets out and ignores Cas telling him not to be so stupid, turning up the radio so he can't hear the guy complain.

 

He barely hears his phone ring half hour later and when he looks at the display he's happy to see Sam's name on the display.

 

"Hey weed, how's Washington?"

 

"Great Dean. You should see C&C's offices. They've got a twenty foot bronze lion in the foyer."

 

"Classy."

 

"They're spotting my case Dean. I mean real support, giving us resources and assistance."

 

"Careful not to get swallowed up Sammy."

 

"I held my ground Dean. I'm not a kid anymore. They say they're interested in buying the firm and that it'll look good for them to be mentoring the little business through when this goes national."

 

"Just watch yourself."

 

"I will. I'm careful. I know what I'm doing."

 

"Good kid."

 

"I just... I wanted to talk. I know I can't tell you anything but I just needed to speak with you. I just needed to know you were ok."

 

"Sam?"

 

"His sister... what they did... That could have been us Dean."

 

Dean swallows. Sam's right. They went through so many foster homes. They heard stories, of course they did, of those that somehow slipped through the system, the bad homes where kids were wanted for the money the government paid the foster carers. Those kids who were neglected, abused. Those that were hurt, died.

 

That could have been Sammy. Dean had fought for him tooth and nail, had bloodied himself more than once. He'd gone too far, so far over the line he forgot there was another reason other than save Sam.

 

Saving Dean had come later.

 

"Hey, it's ok. I'm here. We're ok. We're ok Sammy." He takes a long shuddering breath and tries to stay cool for his little brother. "When you get back we're going to drive to Salt Lake and I'll buy you all the salt water taffy you can eat, ok?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Because we're good ok. We survived. And you're making a difference. You're going to stop shit like that happening ever again."

 

He doesn't even know the story, but he can piece it together by the heartbreak in Sam.

 

He stays on the line for another half hour, asking a thousand questions to calm Sam. Stupid questions about whether Sam's going to run up the Washington monument like Stallone or sneak into the Whitehouse.

 

* * *

 

Cas obviously hadn't expected him to wait 4 hours but he comes over when he spies the Impala still in the car park. Dean's lying across the front bench tapping his feet in time to the music.

 

"Dean what are you doing here?" He sounds well and truly fed up, annoyed at Dean for staying and ready to fight. Dean knows this is a creature to tread lightly round.

 

"Thought I'd take a nap."

 

"You have missed your classes."

 

Dean shrugs where he's still lying flat out on his back. "Thought I'd start my holiday a little early."

 

Cas huffs. He doesn't approve of Dean's flippancy. He pulls the door open though and climbs in as Dean sits.

 

"You ok?" Dean asks when they're enclosed in the safety of the Impala.

 

Cas swallows, doesn't answer automatically. There's a definite no on his lips but Cas would never allow himself to voice his distress. He's too strong, too stubborn and too untrusting.

 

Dean just has to put up with it and wait, wearing the man down day by day till he understands he doesn't have to be alone in the world, just like Dean learnt.

 

* * *

 

Cas asks for alone time and Dean had dropped him off at his house, glaring at the plainclothes who dared to get too close.

 

By Monday he hasn't heard a word from Cas, just Sam who'd rung him late in the evening to let him know that he had to stay in Washington longer than he'd thought. He'd called a rain check on the trip but Dean had suggested he get a flight into Salt Lake City for Thursday and he'd meet him there for the drive back.

 

He could hear the smile in Sam's voice as his brother agreed enthusiastically. They both needed this.

 

So on Tuesday morning he pulls up outside Cas's house and waves to the two obvious police officers sitting in a Mondeo across the street.

 

Cas doesn't open till Dean's been knocking for two minutes, a constant rhythmic tap.

 

"You ready?"

 

Cas narrows his eyes and lets Dean in.

 

"I cannot come Dean."

 

Dean shrugs. "So I know you're busy but..."

 

"No. It's not Uriel..."

 

"The police?" Dean guesses.

 

Cas clenches his jaw as they enter his bedroom. There's a duffel packed at the foot of his bed. He'd been planning on coming.

 

So Dean grabs up the bag and heads downstairs. Cas doesn't run after him, he wanders down watching Dean as he tosses the duffle into the trunk along with his own and some of Sam's stuff he's probably going to want.

 

"Dean..?"

 

"Not listening to it Cas. You need a break man. I've never seen you like this before." Broken, he wants to say but he doesn't voice it to the man so obviously struggling, hanging on by his fingertips. "5 days without any of this real life shit, that's it. We'll be back for lectures, we'll be off the police radar."

 

"And if I get a call about my case?"

 

"We'll work it out."

 

Dean leans against the wheel arch, Cas standing stiff and heavy lidded close by his side.

 

He nudges the man, catching his eyes. "Come on."

 

* * *

 

Kansas is miles and miles of fields. Dean drives with the windows down, one arm catching a tan as he leaves it on the door. Classic rock guides them, Dean singing along and Cas watching the unchanging scenery.

 

He seems to have relaxed a little, his phone now gone from his hand and sitting in the door pocket. He's stopped sitting so ramrod straight, letting the Impala take some of the weight off his back.

 

Occasionally Cas watches Dean as the driver sings along to the radio, tapping the wheel in time with the song. He always shakes his head afterwards and there's a small smile not far from his lips.

 

The first night they make it just across the border and Dean stops at a roadside motel just past Burlington. He can see Cas is flagging, exhausted beside him. He doesn't even push for a drink that night, just dinner at a cute little diner.

 

The next night they've driven further, as far as Rock Springs and the land has long since turned to scrub. Everything is colours of sand, even the plants.

 

Cas had driven for a few hours. Dean had been surprised when he'd offered. He hadn't pegged Cas for the type, but he handled the big old car well and put his foot down when the road emptied. All the while he was silent and the radio was shut off.

 

"I think we deserve a drink," Dean grins as they fall into the motel room Dean has just paid for. He'd done it automatically, getting a twin like he always did when he was on a road trip with Sam. Maybe he shouldn't have with Cas but it seemed natural.

 

Cas claims the bed nearest to the window, dropping his things before falling onto the covers himself.

 

"C'mon sleepyhead," Dean reaches for him. "It's 8.30, you cannot abandon me this early.

 

Cas grouches and pulls away. The guy has no stamina. Dean insists and a rubbery Cas flows to his feet.

 

"You are my least favourite person," Cas grumps as Dean shoves a towel at his stomach and pushes him toward the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Dean had thought Cas would bitch so much they'd end up leaving the bar before 11. Cas perks up after his shower, feeling clean and refreshed. He's on his 5th pint as they start up a game of pool and the alcohol is dancing in his eyes.

 

"This is silly Dean."

 

"It's pool," Dean argues.

 

"I do not play games."

 

"Yeah and you don't drink either. Well tonight you do. Fun Cas. Look it up in your dictionary."

 

Cas glares and cracks the first shot with enough force to send the balls flying in every direction.

 

Dean shouldn't be surprised he's a natural. So much for showing him how to line up his shots. He wants to still. He wants to stand close behind Cas as he leans forward, one hand guiding his shot, the other playing from Cas's shoulder to his hip.

 

Dean swallows and pushes the image from his mind. He has no business thinking of Cas like that. Except the thoughts are getting more and more frequent, overtaking the ones where Dean wants to hit the guy.

 

He's not even sure Cas swings that way. He's not even sure Cas swings at all. Ash still hasn't been able to dig up anything on Cas's partners or even friends. His old life is shrouded in secrecy. There's the report that's still stashed under Dean's bed. He hasn't read it yet. Doesn't ever want to. Ash has hinted it's just the story of whatever case Cas is currently involved in. The rest of his life prior to KU has gone, a few colourless specifics, but nothing about relationships.

 

He's aware though that nobody has formed even half the bond he has with Cas this side of the case file. Cas doesn't do friends. There are people he's civil to, but nobody he purposefully seeks out.

 

Apart from Dean. And Dean knows that half the time Cas would rather ditch him.

 

He annoys Cas, confuses him. Cas isn't used to friendship. And it's another reason for Dean to stay his hands.

 

Cas is a badass. He can look at someone and channel the wrath of god into his eyes. He's not scared of anyone, police, Uriel, pretty girls with breakable hearts.

 

He's fragile though in other ways. Dean's slowly creeping into his life and he figures that one wrong move would cause Cas to shut down completely and never let anyone close ever again.

 

He has to move carefully, because despite himself he's come to care that Cas doesn't remain closed in and alone. He might be happy alone, but not all the time. He needs at least one ally.

 

So Dean plays pool and laughs at Cas's concentration, whoops when he pots a ball and argues when Cas messes up and won't accept it.

 

All in all it's a normal night between friends.

 

* * *

 

Dean stumbles with the key. There's a lock on the door somewhere he just knows it but he can't figure out for the life of him exactly where it is. Beside him Cas is leaning against the wall, eyes closed, half asleep already.

 

Dean laughs. "Dude you're gone," he slurs, vaguely aware he is too.

 

"I'm here," Cas answers in his way too steady voice. His legs are another thing entirely, but his voice doesn't even waver.

 

Dean finally finds the lock amidst rolls of laughter. He leans against the door and falls in before reaching back for Cas, guiding him to the bed and letting him fall heavily onto the sheets still fully dressed.

 

Dean sits himself down on the floor, back against his own bed. He can't even find the energy to lift himself up.

 

"If you want me then next time do not get me drunk," Cas says from the mattress. Or maybe Dean's imagined it as he falls into an easy sleep on the carpet.

 

* * *

 

Sam's call wakes him. His flight leaves mid-afternoon and he'll be getting in to Salt Lake City at 7.30pm.

 

Dean's sober enough to drive but his head feels like it's been split open. He tells Sammy they'll be there.

 

Sam grins down the phone, Dean can practically hear the smirk. "We?"

 

"I told you Cas was coming too."

 

Still Sam's finding it all too funny. Dean hangs up on him before he can ask too many questions.

 

It's then that he realises he's still on the floor and his back hurts like a bitch. He rubs his spine as he stands, pokes Cas. The guys still fully dressed, even his boots are still on. Dean lets himself sag to the mattress.

 

"Cas wake up. I'm hungry."

 

The look of a sleep messed and hung over Cas as he rolls over is too much for Dean who groans and gets up. There's a half heard, half remembered, probably imagined memory of Cas offering something before they fell asleep. Dean tries to catch it as it flutters around his brain but his butterfly net has holes in it miles wide.

 

He turns the shower onto scolding and hopes it can wash the alcohol from his pores.

 

* * *

 

Dean's not exactly sure how it happens but suddenly he's in the biggest argument of his life.

 

He'd managed to get Cas to get out of bed and into the shower, even as far as the diner before letting him fall asleep in the backseat of the impala.

 

Dean wants to get into Salt Lake City before they have to pick up Sam at the airport, dump their stuff at a motel so they don't have to waste the time later.

 

Cas wakes around two with a headache and the worst mood. He stays in the back, alternately groaning and sipping a bottle of flat coke.

 

Dean peers back in the rear view every new and again to see Cas sitting cross legged on the big back seat.

 

"Cas do you remember much of last night?" he asks when his curiosity gets the best of him.

 

"Yes," Cas replies tersely.

 

"You remember what you said before I fell asleep?"

 

If possible Cas goes stiffer than before, his fingers clenching around the coke bottle causing the plastic to crackle.

 

"It's just bugging me. I don't remember exactly."

 

Cas ignores him, staring out the window as the land goes from a dirty brown scrub to orange stone.

 

"Cas?"

 

"It is not important."

 

Bollocks. Dean calls pure bollocks. It was something or Cas wouldn't have retreated so suddenly. He knows Cas doesn't have a problem speaking his mind normally, wonders why now is any different.

 

"That's a load of crap."

 

"Dean leave it."

 

"Not gonna happen." He takes a chance to look back over his shoulder, at the man glowering.

 

He pulls the impala onto the grass verge and turns fully in his seat.

 

"That's all I get from you Cas, avoidance and detachment. You don't care, you honestly don't give a shit whether I'm here or not."

 

Cas retains his glower, eyes locked with Dean's in a battle of wills. Cas was at home with conflict, it made him stronger. When Cas was up against it he would never break. It was when Dean was kind and calm that Cas began to crack.

 

"I would have preferred to stay at KU and work on my research."

 

"Damn you," Dean all but whispers. That hurts. After everything. The shared drive, the laughter, falling into the motel room together drunk and smiling. "I'm trying to help!"

 

"Why?"

 

The word hangs lost and lonely in the big old car.

 

It's too much. Dean slams open the door and storms out towards the hills.

 

He hears Cas get out too but the dark haired man just remains standing beside the car.

 

"Why the hell do you think?" he shouts back, turning to see the one person in this world that can make him this angry. "Why do people help each other Cas, it is really that hard to understand?"

 

Dean never used to get it. When he was alone and broken apart from Sam. When old men in suits told him they'd help him but never let him have his brother back. Dean learnt the hard way that people don't always help the way you need them too.

 

He's trying for Cas though.

 

He's not sure what Cas needs, but he's trying to figure it out.

 

Cas follows him out a way and his phone must find an area of signal because it rings 3 messages. Cas listens to the voicemail, face like stone.

 

"I need to get back home," he says his voice so calm Dean knows it's a mask. "My house has been broken into."

 

* * *

 

Cas board a plane and Dean waits for Sam.

 

He can't say anything to help Cas. He drives in silence and is there until Cas has to go through the gate and Dean can't follow.

 

He's not sure if Cas is grateful, but he stays anyway, despite the argument and Cas's refusal to speak.

 

"I'll see you in lit?" Dean says as he hands Cas his duffel to go past security. He's not sure why he does it but he puts an arm around Cas's shoulders and pulls him in for a quick hug, vindicated when Cas doesn't pull away but stands boneless in his arms. "It'll be ok." It's the same thing he always tells Sam. When Sam was being taken to a new foster home and when Dean had to work extra nights to pay for Sam's college. ‘It'll be ok’ was his mantra.

 

Then he's gone and Dean's more confused than ever.

 

* * *

 

Sam's full of excitement on the drive back to Lawrence. He talks nonstop of Crowley and Campbell, how they've taken him under their wing but are letting the firm continue with their case. How they've offered resources beyond Sam's dreams. The flight he got back was business class where the seats actually had enough room for his 6'5 frame.

 

Dean can see underneath how he's still upset by the whole case but he's got a strong resolve that'll take him through it. Sam will fight harder because he knows what it's like and he has the biggest heart Dean's ever known.

 

For a whole three days Dean can almost ignore his argument with Cas.

 

Almost.

 

"So what happened? With you and Cas?"

 

Dean doesn't want to talk about it but he can't deny his brother.

 

"We had an argument and then he had an emergency back home so he caught a flight out."

 

"You really like him don't you?"

 

"No. I mean he's the most infuriating person I've ever known. I don't like him. But for some reason I want to. If I ever get past the crap and the barriers and the attitude then I think I will."

 

Sam nods supportive beside him. "That's big of your Dean." At a shot look Sam shrugs. "I mean it's difficult to look that hard. Most people would just shrug him off as a dick."

 

"He's a dick alright."

 

"I mean look as us Dean. How many people gave up on us because I was difficult and you were actually dangerous."

 

Dean remembers the day he'd punched Sam's foster father. It'd stayed off his record when it came to light that the guy had been threatening Sam at the time, but it was then that they realised exactly how far Dean would go for his little brother.

 

* * *

 

Cas doesn't show in the lecture and ten minutes in Dean shakes his head and leaves. Dr Mills doesn't try to stop him, knows it'd be futile and perhaps his teacher is as worried as he is by Cas's disappearance.

 

Once again there are police cars out front of Cas's house and he's arguing with a suit in the street. Cas catches sight of Dean as he wanders up and dismisses the FBI agent with a flick of his wrist, pushing past to see Dean.

 

"You ok?" Dean asks seeing the commotion.

 

"They're sweeping the house, full forensic."

 

"The hell happened to you Cas?" Dean says taking in the scene. It's like something out of CSI as techs in white jumpsuits walk equipment between their vans and Cas's house. "I should have driven you back."

 

"No Dean. It's fine. It's been like this for days now."

 

"Where are you staying?"

 

Cas shrugs. "Motel."

 

"Oh no man. Come on. Back to mine."

 

Cas looks uncomfortable. It's such a strange site that Dean almost reaches for him. But he knows Cas and knows that would only make his discomfort worse. Cas is an island and although Dean's building a bridge he's no way ready to join the mainland just yet.

 

"The last time I saw you we argued."

 

"Big whoop. You gonna stay pissed at that forever. You're still a dick who needs to work out how to interact with people but I'll give you the time if you want."

 

Cas holds his face well but he's shocked, maybe even amazed by what Dean's offering.

 

"It's not like I haven't been there," Dean explains feeling heat work its way up his neck. "I had Sammy though, to keep me human. Or I would have become a monster. I'm pretty sure of that."

 

Dean doesn't let arguments go easily, he can hold a grudge but both Cas and Sam make it easy and he can't stay angry.

 

As they turn to leave the agent runs after them.

 

"Mr Novak?"

 

"I'm gonna stay at a friends for a few days. My phone will be on."

 

"Like it was on this weekend?"

 

Cas moves so easily from weary to bad ass, scary, blue eyed statue.

 

"I was going through an area of bad signal," he breaths, the words low and dangerous.

 

"You can't afford to do that Mr Novak. Running off where our officers can't help you- you've had threats to your life. It's dangerous for you right now. We are here for your protection."

 

Dean's stomach sinks as his heart races. He hadn't taken the threat to Cas's life seriously until then. It'd been a far off and vague risk, annoying phone calls and stupid break-ins. Now it was suddenly very real and very dangerous.

 

"I don't want your protection. I don't need it. Anna did."

 

Cas spins and Dean finds himself half running to keep up.

 

They run straight into two men. The first grabs Cas and holds him up, the other laughs.

 

"Cassy!"

 

"Gabe?"

 

"Look at you! Surrounded by police cars. I'd be proud except I know they're not here to drag you away."

 

Cas shoves Gabe off. The asshole smiles and looks Dean up and down. He's short with brassy hair threaded with burnished gold. His smile is enough to make Dean want to punch him in the face.

 

The other man folds his arms and sneers. He's taller than them all, maybe even as tall as Sam. He's dark, everything about him is dark. Black eyes and black hair, his skin so deeply tanned that Dean thinks there must be some Native American in him. It's in the set of his eyes, strong brows and cheekbones, different to Cas's more Slavic wide, high cheeks.

 

"Michael," Cas greets him but there's no love in his tone. Dean thinks perhaps Cas would prefer to haul off and punch him instead.

 

He's a contrast to the small and golden Gabe, his cocky sneer a contrast to Gabe's sarcastic joy.

 

"And who's this? I've never actually seen you in the company of another human being."

 

Cas sets his most heated stare on Gabe and Dean waits for the little man to burst into flames.

 

"This is Dean," Cas introduces them, normally rough voice now sandpaper to the ears. "Dean this is Gabe and Michael. They're my brothers and they should not be here."

 

"Nonsense," Michael says. His voice is deep and booming, all command and fear. "We stop here for the night on the way to Denver."

 

Cas almost recoils but Dean is standing close behind and he bumps into him. It's little comfort but Cas takes it.

 

* * *

 

Dean hates Michael. He hates him to his very soul. Every word the man commands makes Dean want to bury him all the more. By the time they finish dinner Dean's organised his list of ways to murder Michael, with holy fire being top.

 

He hadn't meant to follow as Gabe had suggested dinner but Cas actually reached for his hand and that was enough for Dean to crowd himself to his friend and suck it up.

 

Their fingers had only brushed but it hit Dean like a steam train how far Cas had come.

 

Whereas Michael is obnoxious, big headed, judgemental and bigoted, Gabe is sarcastic and vulgar.

 

Dean didn't hate the man, all his feeling has gone towards Michael in that respect, but he bugs him. He wants to wash off the vulgarity of Gabe.

 

Cas sits quietly and answers only the questions aimed his way. Dean's not sure how much the brothers know what is happening with him at the moment but they don't put it into words if they do.

 

The meal is over when Michael leans in and forces Cas's eyes to him.

 

"Castiel?"

 

"Yes Michael."

 

"Are you finally ready to give up this pipe dream?"

 

Cas's breath stutters.

 

"Michael?" he pleads and he's never sounded so lost before. Dean reaches under the table and puts a hand on his knee, let's him know he's there.

 

"This so called justice you seek?"

 

Cas actually stops breathing then, he goes completely still, tensed so hard that Dean can feel the muscles of his thigh standing out in stark relief.

 

"So called justice?"

 

"It was so long ago now Castiel. How can you even be sure anymore?"

 

"Because... because I was there." Something snaps in Cas. The lost little boy falls away and he goes hard as stone once more. He stands, Dean's hand slowly slipping from his leg. Michael stands too, the man taller than Cas by half a foot, but not out of reach of Cas's fist that shoots out at lightning speed, unexpected and destructive.

 

He jabs Michael in the nose, blood spraying.

 

"So called justice?"

 

He throws Michael a napkin and walks out.

 

For a moment Dean sits stunned before he explodes with laughter. "I could have told you Cas was a badass," he shrugs as Michael looks up from the napkin held to his previously perfect nose. "But eh? You should have known that already."

 

He follows Cas out onto the sidewalk and is surprised to find Gabe coming out right after him.

 

"Little Cassy," Gabe coos. "I had not expected that of you. That's two surprises this afternoon, after this one of course. I think this one’s my favourite despite Michael's bloody nose. You're making friends Cas."

 

Cas growls, the sound surprisingly loud in the silent street.

 

"You like this one, don't you? What's wrong Cassy scared this will break your loaner vibe. Scared that you might fall for this one too? Just like Anna? And then he'll leave you, just like Anna?"

 

"Anna is dead Gabe."

 

"Still she left didn't she? Like Raph left too. You didn't care about that though did you? Found dead in an alleyway, needle still in his hand. We are the damned Cassy."

 

"I cared for Raph."

 

"No. You'd lost the ability to care by then. Anna killed any grace you ever had." He grins, smile like a vipers. "I see the way this one looks at you. Anna used to look at you like that. Remember how you looked at her?"

 

"Cas?" Dean asks unsure exactly what is going on between the two men.

 

"Oh and it talks as well! Oh happy day. Tell me how much you love my dear brother, the things you'd like to do to him. Tell me with those pretty lips of yours."

 

"Gabe leave him alone. He's a friend yes, he has nothing to do with this."

 

"Backbone Cassy. I like it. You always had a spine beyond your years. Michael knew that and he was stupid to provoke you. Oh my dear Cassy but he was right. This is foolish and you're going to end up hurt because of it."

 

His words go from humoured to a threat with a gleam in his eyes. Dean shoves him aside, away from Cas. He's not sure if Gabe is dangerous but he won't let him have the chance to prove himself.

 

"This one has teeth," Gabe chortles. "He's a keeper. I bet he's a screamer. Did you ever decide whether you like girls or boys Cassy? I suggest boys now I see this one. Girls are stronger but boys are more stubborn."

 

Dean touches Cas's shoulder, turns him from Gabe. "It'll be ok," he whispers because as much as Cas needs to hear it, he needs to say it too.

 

Cas sets him with icy eyes, he doesn't need to be rescued, but sometimes Dean wants to anyway.

 

"Gabe stop being an asshole," Cas says on a sigh. "I've had enough. I don't know what you are trying to achieve but you're being a dick and I'd thank you if you'd fuck off now."

 

Dean barely keeps in his laughter. Gabe looks affronted for a moment before grinning too.

 

"Anna wouldn't even recognise you," he laughs to receive Dean's fist in his jaw.

 

Gabe falls like the 5'6 mess he is under Dean's expert punch. Dean shakes his fist out and shakes his head as he turns back to Cas.

 

"Your brothers talk too much. Come on, I need to get some ice and you could probably do with some too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The band they see may or may not be Butch Walker and the Black Widows (readers prerogative)
> 
> Dublin Crow is the perfect song and is where the title comes from


	4. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Two icepacks, two beers and a bucket of ice-cream later Dean can straighten his fingers without wincing. They still hurt and he's split the knuckle on his middle finger but he's quite proud of the pain.

 

Cas fared better with his jab, but Dean never has had that much finesse.

 

"I did the right thing right? You're not pissed?"

 

"Another minute and I would have punched Gabe too. However much I'd promise myself not to let him get to me."

 

"You want to talk about it?"

 

"Not really."

 

Dean empties his ice pack into the sink. He does. He needs to know more, to know what he's up against.

 

"You gonna have any other brothers show up around here that need punching out?"

 

"No," Cas answers eyes on his drink. For a man who doesn't drink he's sure packing them away. "They're not my real brothers, but we call each other family because we grew up together. With Raph and Anna gone they are the last."

 

And they'd sent them packing.

 

"If you..." Dean starts but finds his throat closing up on him. "If you ever want to talk I'll listen."

 

Cas bends his head further. He can't take the kindness, can't accept Dean's trust.

 

"And if not then I'll drink myself into a stupor with you too."

 

Cas rolls his head in his hand, wiping his hair back. It still looks artfully messy, his stubble still just a shadow on his jaw.

 

"The other night I said... if you want me then do not get me drunk... I need my control."

 

Dean hesitates for a moment, unsure of exactly what Cas is offering. Then he reaches for Cas's beer.

 

"I never said anything about letting me get myself drunk."

 

With a snorted laugh Dean lets go.

 

"Cas man. I'm here for whatever you want me to be."

 

He rubs his head, weary too. He's not aware that Cas has moved until a hand threads into his hair and pulls his head back.

 

"If we're going to do this we do it my way."

 

Cas's words and a long breath, a low promise. He pulls Dean to his feet and moves them both to the couch. Dean falls back and there's a blue eyed man sitting over his lap face set and grim.

 

Cas shifts, kneeling so that he's straddling Dean.

 

Dean relaxes back into the sofa, compliant and still. He doesn't even touch Cas, sure he'll startle and run if he moves too fast.

 

Cas studies his features, eyes low, lips slightly open. When he moves he's slow and careful, ducking down to touch his lips to the side of Dean's mouth. Dean moves slightly beneath him but though his body is strung tight with want he holds himself still.

 

Cas backs off, studying Dean once more. Dean will let him look, let him have his full.

 

"I didn't think I'd ever feel for you Dean."

 

"I hated you too Cas."

 

"Hate is an emotion." He leans down as he speaks, his breath ghosting over Dean's eyelashes. "It had been so long since I'd allowed myself to care even that much."

 

Dean has to shift, uncomfortable with not touching, his shirt suddenly too tight.

 

"I find it difficult to form bonds to people," Cas confesses.

 

"We got a bond Cas?" Dean breathes.

 

Cas doesn't answer, he presses another shy kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth and this time Dean can't help but chase his lips.

 

Cas sits back once more. He runs one finger down the bumps of Dean's ribs.

 

"You angered me. The way you cared to argue."

 

"So much for whispering sweet nothings in my ear."

 

"It's not an insult, it's a confession. Each confession I make translates to you as an insult."

 

"So far all you've told me is that you don't like me."

 

He's said too much, let his frustration get the best of him. Cas goes to move but Dean puts his hands on his hips.

 

"Cas. Sorry. Cas."

 

The man stills again, slowly, always anxious for a way out. He's so guarded, so desperate not to let anyone in and therefore get hurt.

 

Dean strokes gently, hoping it will calm Cas. He doesn't hold too tight, Cas needs a way out if he should choose it.

 

They stay that way for a long time, Dean stroking Cas and Cas watching him with a sleepy intensity. It's like trying to gain a wild animals trust and Dean knows he must be just as careful.

 

* * *

 

By morning Dean is mostly asleep with Cas slumped against his shoulder. He's not sure how the man can be comfortable but he's asleep and he doesn't want to wake him. There's no way to move with Cas wrapped around him so completely. When he hears Sam get up he decides he had to move. Cas grumbles as he lies him down on the couch but he doesn't wake, pressing his face into the sofa back.

 

Dean kisses his temple and promises to return soon.

 

"Shh," he tells Sam as he comes out his room. Sam spots the man huddled in the blanket and frowns. Dean holds up his hand to show his broken knuckles and mouths, "family trouble."

 

"What?" Sam is shocked. He takes Dean's hand, examining it.

 

"It's fine. You're a lawyer not a doctor," Dean hisses. "Look his brothers were being dicks and we kinda got in a fight. Cas broke Mike's nose and I tried my best with his brothers jaw."

 

Sam's eyes widen even further. "Dean you realise how crazy that is? Dean you can't do that anymore, you can't risk yourself, not for anyone."

 

Dean knows Sam's right but he still clenches his jaw and rebel against Sam's sense. "Cas needed my help."

 

"Yeah Dean and what use is that if you're dragged up in court again? This isn't just another fight, this is your last chance."

 

He's not whispering anymore and Dean glances behind him to make sure Cas is still sleeping.

 

"I know Sammy, don't you think I know." He grabs his brother, makes sure he's looking at him. "I took a risk back then. And I lucked out, I know that. I got my life, I got you. I ain’t gonna regret that."

 

Sam's lip quivers. Dean knows his brother’s guilt, knows he doesn't blame Sam in the slightest.

 

"Look Cas is worth it too." He voices the secret in a rush of breath, wanting to take it back as soon as he does. It's too deep, too personal even to admit to himself. It's too soon. He might be willing to knock a guy out for Cas but he's not going to admit how much it could mean for him.

 

Sam pulls him into a rough hug. "I hope he is," he murmurs. "And I hope he loves you back."

 

* * *

 

Dean lets Cas sleep as late as he needs, curled up on the couch. He's got lectures but he doesn't want Cas waking up alone, lost and confused. Dean doesn't admit it to himself often but he's got a protective streak so strong it makes him violent sometimes.

 

He keeps it in tough check, forces himself to let Sammy make his own mistakes and is always there to pick up the pieces.

 

However careful Dean is though Cas's phone doesn't care. He answers it, pushing himself to a seated position but doesn't leave the room.

 

"How is that possible? Months? They've had it for months? Will this hurt my case? What do you mean you don't know? I need to know. I need to... No! This could lose this for me. Your incompetence! It's unbelievable."

 

He throws the phone down hiding his face in his hands.

 

Carefully Dean goes over to him, kneels down and places his hands on either side of Cas's knees. "Cas?"

 

"Somebody has stolen a huge amount of information on the case. Months ago but they've only just found out about the breach. They reckon the guy was a professional. They have everything, every piece of information, everything we have built the case on."

 

Dean bends to press a kiss to Cas's bent head before standing. He's not sure he should be doing this but he fetches the folder he's had under his bed since Ash gave it to him. He doesn't know how to explain it, doesn't know how to get Cas to believe him when he says he didn't read it, didn't even want it.

 

Still he can't bear to see Cas breaking like this. Nothing gets to Cas. Nothing is too much for his impenetrable shields.

 

He slides the folder onto Cas's lap.

 

"I never read it," he says. "I asked a friend who you were the first time I saw you and this is what he came up with. He's not exactly right in the head but he's a genius. He'd be a criminal mastermind if he wasn't high all the time."

 

"You broke into the FBI's computers?"

 

"No, he did. I haven't read it. Any of it. He just got a bit too into it and I told him to get rid of it but no refunds so..." Dean shrugs. The explanation makes no sense he knows, but he wants Cas to believe him so desperately.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because he's insane. I just wanted to know who you were. You know name, major that sort of thing."

 

"Why?"

 

Dean shrugs again and blushes. "Because you were hot and I wanted to see what Ash could do and it only cost a Twinkie."

 

Cas rubs his head. He's angry, but this time he's waiting out the explanation.

 

"I'm sorry Cas." He shuffles forward on his knees, trying to get closer, needing to get closer. "You get that right? Tell me you get that."

 

"I understand you're sorry, but this could destroy everything I've been working for since I was 11 years old."

 

"Cas."

 

"It's... ok Dean. It's... ok."

 

Dean doesn't hesitate then, he reaches up to press his lips against Cas's. It's instinctual, a reflexive need to show Cas what his forgiveness means to him.

 

He hadn't been expecting Cas to grab the back of his head, hold him to him and open his mouth above him. He hadn't expected the dart of tongue and the press of cool fingers under his jaw angling his head up so Cas had a better reach of his lips.

 

Dean falls away with a deep breath. He feels boneless, the kiss having zapped him completely. Cas doesn't look any better off when Dean looks up. He's bent over, eyes mostly closed, cheeks pink and lips parted.

 

He reaches up, pulls Cas down, twisting so they're both on the floor, side by side, pressed up against each other.

 

"You want me?" Dean asks nuzzling beneath Cas's ear.

 

"For some reason yes," Cas says with a roll of sleepy eyes. "Yes."

 

He rolls onto his side, head resting on the couch so he's staring directly at Dean.

 

"I am angry though."

 

"Yeah I know."

 

"I want to hate you. I want to phone the police and have you arrested for what you've done."

 

"I want you to tell me what happened."

 

"I don't want to."

 

"I want to help."

 

Dean tugs on Cas's arm, pulls him again so he's sitting over his lap.

 

"Cas it's me. Please Cas." He strokes Cas's face, reaches up to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

 

"What's that supposed to mean Dean? It's you. Why should I care that it's you? Why do I?"

 

Dean's not sure, other than because he cares. Because he wants to know so he can help Cas. He wants to make the worry go away. He wants Cas to be able to get everything off his chest.

 

Cas leans his forehead against Dean's. His eyes are closed tight.

 

"I have to go sort this."

 

Dean holds on though. "Don't go."

 

"I... I will come back... if..."

 

"Hell of course I want you to! Shit Cas you think I could ever turn you away. I want to help, I want to be here for you. Call me, anytime, stay here when you can't go home, hell even when you can. I'll be here."

 

"Why?" Cas asks and Dean's face splits in a warm smile.

 

"Because you're an idiot and I'm going to fix that."

 

Cas climbs from his lap with a tut and a huff. He finds his coat and shakes it out trying not to look back at Dean. When he does Dean is still splayed out against the couch looking up at him from under half closed lids. He's content in that moment, until Cas lets himself out and then he's alone.

 

* * *

 

Cas strokes a hand over the back of Dean's neck as he enters religious literature but they say nothing. Dean's aware he's smiling through most of the discussion, not really paying attention. Cas makes a few points but all in all the rest of the class have to field the questions. It leads to a quiet and introverted class.

 

Dr Mills sighs as she's packing up her things once the bell's rung.

 

"I'm glad you two are good and all," she says as Dean stands over Cas's chair and the blue eyed man packs. "But it makes classes very boring."

 

Dean laughs and there's even a flicker from Cas.

 

"I have to head over to Singer's." Dean tells Cas as they're leaving. "But did you want to meet up afterwards? You can tell me all about how it went with the police."

 

He's fishing, in more ways than one.

 

"They'll be coming to arrest you first thing tomorrow morning," Cas answers with complete seriousness.

 

Dean pinches his side and pulls him close by his waistband as they walk.

 

"Remind me again why I even hang out with you?"

 

He's grinning though and they part with an awkward smile, a light touch of their hands. They're not quite there yet but Dean can feel it building. Soon it's all going to break out and he's not going to be able to stop touching Cas.

 

He practically runs to Singer's.

 

"I got a call from the owner of the Mustang," Singer explains. "He's ready for it back."

 

Dean's torn. He's gonna miss tinkering with the car. It's been finished for about a month now but he's continued to tune her so she'll be perfect. On the other hand he can't wait to tell the owner about everything he's achieved. He hopes the guy knows what he's got here.

 

"Well she's ready. When's he coming by?"

 

"About three."

 

Ok that's fine. He could meet Cas at 4. He fires off a text. The reply is lightning quick. Yes.

 

So Dean works through till three polishing the Mustang. He's taken a few liberties he knows. One is the new paintjob. It's jet black now instead of faded. She shines, just like his Impala does. There's new chrome on the dash and it has cost more than Dean wants to admit just to dress her up.

 

He hears the door open as he's scrubbing up. Singer greets the customer and they head towards the Ford.

 

Dean's surprised to see Cas. He guesses he decided not to wait but Cas hasn't even seen him. He's staring at the car, her beautiful black lines.

 

"She looks like a different car."

 

"She's yours," Singer smiles, Cas's reaction making him proud of his boy.

 

"Cas?" Dean asks coming round. He slides a hand to the small of Cas's back, a greeting when there's no time for words. "This is your car?"

 

Cas nods, mouth still open at how well his baby has scrubbed up. Dean leans in, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Cas's hand clenches on his own before he turns, kisses Dean back, presses into him like he's struggling for breath and Dean's the only one with any oxygen.

 

Dean pulls back with a grin. "Public Cas," he whispers, kissing Cas's ears to let him know it's not a rejection, just that he needs to stop himself now before things go beyond his control.

 

Singer coughs in discomfort behind them.

 

"You did this?"

 

Dean shrugs at Bobby, he hadn't known. "Yeah, she's been my midterm project."

 

Cas finally lets Dean go, keeping one hand as he walks around his girl, running a hand along the shining paintwork.

 

Dean starts explaining what he's done, a little nervous now that he can see Cas admiring her. He lifts the hood and Cas inspects the shining engine block.

 

Dean stands back beside Singer, giving him an embarrassed grin.

 

"Just don't greet all customers like that," Singer sighs and claps him on the shoulder before leaving them be.

 

* * *

 

"So what happened with the police?"

 

"I told them it didn't matter. We had the truth and so we'd continue."

 

Dean watches Cas as he runs a hand over the hood on the Mustang. Cas has averted his eyes. He still doesn't want to talk about it.

 

"Cas?"

 

"Not here," Cas says and opens the driver’s door. He climbs in and turns the key that's already hanging from the ignition. The mustang roars into life.

 

The cops have finished at Cas's house now. They've left a mess, but Cas doesn't seem to notice. He heads upstairs and Dean follows.

 

"I thought we were going to talk?"

 

Cas sets him with narrowed eyes, then he sighs. "Dean."

 

"I know. I suck. But seriously Cas couldn't we have talked in the lounge?"

 

Cas quirks a lip and pulls off his shirt.

 

"Holy shit."

 

Cas rolls his eyes once more. "I'm going to have a shower first."

 

Dean falls back on to the bed. "You're a fucking tease you know that?"

 

Thankfully when Cas emerges he's wearing a shirt. Dean sits up, cross legged on the bed as Cas slips on beside him.

 

"Cas tell me," he murmurs.

 

Cas swallows and pushes his still wet hair back.

 

"My parents died when I was three years old." He shuts his eyes, finding it easier to speak that way. "I was in an orphanage for most of my life. As were Gabe and Michael. Raph and A-Anna."

 

Dean leans forward, nuzzles his head against Cas's, offering what little comfort he can.

 

"We went from foster home to foster home, always ending up back at the orphanage after one mistake or another. When I was eight and Anna was eleven we were adopted. Zach and Bella. Anna thought they were great. I thought maybe this was our chance."

 

Dean knows it wasn't. Knows it was what had destroyed Cas's faith in the world.

 

"It started off ok, but then the visits by social services stopped and so did everything else. We were moved into the annex of the main house so we weren't under their feet. Anna was eleven and she tried but she was so young and I was useless. We stole food from the kitchen at night, wore the same dirty, too small clothes day after day. Occasionally Bella would bring back some charity buys so the school wouldn't get too suspicious."

 

Dean moves closer, wrapping his arms around Cas and holds him. Cas is stiff in his arms but he stays, carries on.

 

"There was no heat in winter. Anna would slip me her food and I never realised. She committed suicide at the age of fourteen. The coroner found bruises that I'd been too stupid to see. The times she'd gone back in to beg food, warmth. Stolen it when she had to." Cas dragged in a deep breath. "I thought it was normal. I was just a kid. I thought it was normal to be hit, to be hungry, to live like a feral animal."

 

He pushes at Dean then, climbing from the bed to pace to room. Dean waits. He lets Cas fume and knows there's nothing he can say. He'd been lucky. This was what he'd been so scared of when Sam was taken from him. He's feared it, Cas had lived it.

 

After a while he can't stand it anymore, he stands and pulls Cas into him, wrapping him in strong arms and holding him till he stills. Then he lies them down and continues to hold him, warm and safe.

 

* * *

 

He hadn't thought of the stakes. He sleeps in Cas's bed and tries to comfort him. He feels his partner fall apart and tries to pick up the pieces.

 

He forgets about the outside.

 

About the police who'd been watching but were now gone and the break in.

 

He wakes to a shout, to Cas being pulls out of bed, to the glint of a gun.

 

Cas doesn't cry out, he pulls back and gets his arm twisted up his back for his troubles. Dean scrambles out the bed as the intruder pulls Cas down the stairs.

 

"Not another step," the masked man growls and turns the gun between Dean and Cas.

 

Dean stumbles back, falls on the stairs to land on the top step. He holds up his hands, there's nothing he can do that won't get Cas killed.

 

He waits till he hears the front door click and then runs after them. The shot that rings out barely misses his head as it blows apart the door.

 

Dean is forced to stop, the smoking pistol now aimed at Cas as he's dragged back. There's a van and when Cas sees it he starts to kick out. The man's dragged him close enough now though and he lays Cas out neatly with the butt of his gun, catching his collapsing form and shoving him in the back.

 

They're gone.

 

* * *

 

Dean has been at the station for 5 hours now and he still knows nothing more. He's paced the small interrogation room they've kept him in, thrown the coffee they offered him against the door in disgust and almost wept he's so tired and scared.

 

"Let me through, damn it let me in."

 

The voice is Sam's and the doors being opened.

 

"Dean."

 

He runs to his brother.

 

"They got Cas. They took him. They had a gun. Sam. He's gone. They shot at me. Sam they took him."

 

Sam tries to calm him, tries to get him to stop.

 

"Dean. Dean. Please just stop. For a moment. One moment."

 

"Sammy they've got him."

 

"I know. Listen to me Dean. Do you know who Cas is? Really?"

 

"He's Cas," Dean says. That's all he cares about right now.

 

"His name is Castiel Collins."

 

"I don't care!"

 

"Yes you do. Listen to me. The state gave him the name Jimmy Novak when he agreed to press charges against Zachariah and Bella Adler. Seems he still used Cas as a nickname. I didn't know this until just now, but Dean, Jimmy Novak is my client."

 

Dean can see the connection now but he still doesn't care. He needs Cas back and whoever the fuck did this to be six feet under.

 

"Dean just listen," Sam orders knowing that Dean's mind is elsewhere. "Zachariah Adler is the 16th richest person in the united states. Twenty years ago he lost his fortune when his accounts were frozen querying fraud. It had been two years when they decided to adopt children for the state pay and the maintenance funds that came from the children's parent's will. Castiel and Anna. They regained their fortune because nothing could be proven but by then Anna was dead. Jimmy - Cas went back into state care because the Adler's cited trauma caused by Anna's death. He was eleven."

 

"Yeah I know all this Sam. We just gotta find him."

 

"How?"

 

"What?"

 

"How do you know all this?"

 

"Because he told me idiot. What does it matter?"

 

Sam puts his hands on his hips and tries to find the words. "Because he never speaks of it. Ever. He was in counselling till he was twenty-two. The government tried to build a case but it was only really possible when Cas agreed to help four years ago. He still had trouble telling the story. He wouldn't speak of it to us, or the cops unless absolutely necessary, as in testimonial."

 

Dean shrugs. Cas told him. It might be the biggest thing in the world but it won't matter if they can't get him back.

 

"Sam we're wasting time."

 

"We have no leads Dean. The police are out looking but the vehicle was unmarked, there are no cameras around to pick it up. It may take some time."

 

And in that time they may kill Cas.

 

"I can't let him die Sam." Dean bites his cheeks and tries to keep in all the anger and fear. He's shaking and he doesn't care if his brother sees.

 

"Cas is strong," Sam says eventually. "He survived before."

 

Dean squeezes his eyes tight shut and hopes.

 

"Dean listen to me, this is important. You need to know this, because who knows how Cas will be when he returns. When we get him back." Sam says the words and tries to make Dean hear them. When, not if. "Did he tell you what Zach and Bella did to him, to Anna?"

 

"He said they neglected them."

 

"They tried to kill Cas. That's why Anna committed suicide. Zachariah locked Cas in a freezer trunk for four days. On the fifth he turned the power on. They beat Anna, broke her arm. Cas survived because a neighbour saw Anna's body hanging from the back of the house."

 

Dean feels physically sick. He has to hold his stomach as Sam rubs a large hand over his back.

 

"She committed suicide because she thought Cas was dead and she had no hope left. The police were called. Zachariah and Bella had alibis for the day, they'd been out so there was no suspicion on them. The police said Anna had locked Cas in and then hung herself, trying to kill both of them."

 

"It was covered up?"

 

"The police tried. They lost valuable evidence in doing so. They knew something was wrong but thought it'd be better to move Cas on, cover it up and blame Anna. Only they weren't all agreed so one division kept going, kept trying to prove the truth. I believe Cas and I believe the evidence."

 

"Cas," Dean mutters wrapping his arms around himself.

 

* * *

 

Night comes and goes. Sam deals with the police liaison and Dean lies awake in one of the witness rooms. It's 4am when he decides he can't take it anymore.

 

"They think it's Adler," Sam says at the desk.

 

It makes sense. Who else stands to lose as much?

 

"They're going to raid his mansion. We've got enough motive for a warrant. There are prints from the break-in, hired mercenaries who can be linked to Adler's accounts. We've pulled out some of the case evidence. The bullet in the doorjamb is the same ones registered to Zach's licence."

 

Dean's heart lifts. It's something, it's more than something.

 

"There's more. The van’s been found. It was rented a day before the crime by Gordon Walker. He was the agent in charge of the cover up. I think he's running scared, trying to stop everything coming out. He'll lose his job if it does, his reputation, go up in court."

 

"They're in it together?"

 

Sam shrugs. "Too early to say but they're sending men in."

 

Dean can't stay put after that. He heads out onto the steps on the police station, walks back and forth across the yard, wanders the corridors and worries.

 

10.30am and he hears sirens. He runs back inside, pushing past the security that let him because they've seen the man walking around since they arrived and they've all heard the story of the kidnapped plaintiff.

 

"Cas!" Dean shouts as he reaches the mob of activity.

 

Sam catches him and drags him back. "Hospital. Now."

 

Dean pushes forward though. Adler is walking in the centre of a group of police officers, hands cuffed. Dean smacks him in the face.

 

Immediately Sam's on him and he knows he's lucky to have got off the punch.

 

"Get him out of here," he hears an officer shout and knows he's lucky not to get arrested himself.

 

"Dean. Cas. Come on."

 

* * *

 

Dean falls out Sam's Cadillac before he's parked up fully. He's glad his brother follows him in though as he had no idea which way to head.

 

"Room 454. I phoned ahead."

 

He grabs Dean's collar as he goes to run off and drags him in the right direction.

 

It takes longer than Dean can bear to get to the room. Sam let's him run on ahead as they reach the last corridor and Dean almost falls into the room.

 

"Cas?!"

 

Cas turns his head towards the sound. He takes a deep breath but doesn't speak.

 

"Cas, it's me. Hey. Cas."

 

He falls to his knees beside the bed, scared to touch Cas but wanting to so badly.

 

"I know Dean," Cas breathes. He sounds like he's inhaled a fire, voice wrecked even beyond Cas's normal gravel.

 

"Then fucking let me know you're ok. You scared me to death. You're lucky I'm not some corpse on the police stations floor. God Cas what even was that?"

 

Cas takes a wrecked breath, his throat must really hurt. "Not now Dean. They gassed me and my throat feels like razors."

 

"Oh."

 

Dean sits back on his heels. He hadn't thought maybe Cas would want to sleep after his ordeal. He suddenly feels like he's intruding.

 

Cas sees his fear though and holds his arms out. Dean goes to him, hugging him as tight as he dares when he doesn't even know how Cas has been injured. Cas holds him tight though.

 

"I hate you so much," Dean whispers as he tries to hold back sobs. "You're such a fucking mission."

 

Maybe Cas laughs or maybe he coughs, Dean's not sure.

 

* * *

 

The police had found him in Adler's garage. Zachariah had been trying to gas him using the exhaust fumes of the car while Gordon walker helped and Bella stood by pretending not to see any of it.

 

They'd run full a blood work up and given Cas oxygen but he seemed to be ok so far. His throat was shot to hell and there were some superficial bruises and cuts, probably from the kidnap rather than from any torture.

 

They wanted Cas in overnight for observations and flat out refused to let Dean stay.

 

Which meant that Dean sat up all night writing their literature essay and worrying even more.

 

He'd sent so many texts to Cas that he'd had turned his phone off except for once an hour, on the hour when he'd turn it on to let Dean know he was ok. Dean text back every time the same thing, it'll be ok. And Cas sent back, I know.

 

Dean apologised a few times that Cas wasn't sleeping but Cas explained the nurses were coming in to take neurological observations every hour anyway due to his head injury and gas inhalation. So Dean continued to text, stupid things, little things and Cas would text back I'm ok.

 

* * *

 

Dean couldn't hang around home the next morning and everyone had forbade him from going to the hospital, the police, Sam, the doctors, the nurses and Cas.

 

He grumped as he sat outside Starbucks and drunk his fourth coffee of the morning.

 

Sam finds him at midday, his brother folding his long body to sit beside Dean on the grass.

 

"Cas called. Said they're going to run some repeat bloods and he should be out by four. I'm going to pick him up and take him to the office to run over our next move."

 

Dean grumbles, annoyed that Cas had called Sam and all he'd got were the same I'm ok texts.

 

"Dean stop. I know what you're thinking."

 

"He should be resting."

 

"You ever tried to talk him into anything?"

 

Yes. Constantly.

 

"Look. He's got some stuff to sort out,

 

"Yeah but I saw him for all of 30 seconds."

 

"Dean this is about Cas, not you."

 

Which annoys Dean even more. "I know."

 

Sam smiles to himself, aware of just how far gone his brother is on his client. "We could swing by early."

 

Dean doesn't want to sound as desperate as he actually is. He shrugs.

 

"Come on. You can give me a lift."

 

They head to the hospital and Sam distracts the nurse so Dean can go in alone. Cas isn't in the bed and there's the noise of the shower going. Dean's suddenly sure he shouldn't be here. Cas would have called if he'd wanted him. He slides down onto the bed, mind at war.

 

He doesn't hear Cas emerge, only realises when he slides his hands over Dean's shoulders from behind. Bare knees bracket his hips as Cas kneels on the bed, his forehead lands softly on the curve of Dean's shoulder.

 

Cas's arms tighten, one down across his chest, the other catching him in a gentle headlock.

 

"Hey Cas," Dean whispers.

 

"I can't see you now," Cas groans into his neck. "I need to talk to the police, my lawyers."

 

"I'm too distracting?" Dean smiles when he realises what Cas is trying to say.

 

"Yes."

 

Cas squeezes a bit tighter, just the barest of pressure on Dean's windpipe.

 

"I could go."

 

A squeeze once more and Dean's lifting his head back, pressing into Cas.

 

"No Dean. No."

 

* * *

 

They sit like that for a while, Cas moving his hand up and down Dean's chest. They only move apart when there's a knock at the door, Cas twisting so that he's sat cross legged at the pillows and Dean turning towards him.

 

It's Sam with a young doctor following him.

 

"Blood results are back. I'd suggest get someone to watch over you for 48 hours but you're medically fit to leave."

 

"I will," Dean speaks up automatically and Cas shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.

 

The doctor’s eyes go wide as Dean pinches Cas's knee and Cas swipes at his hand with a scowl. Sam utters a short huffed laugh.

 

Cas shoves Dean away and picks up his bloody clothes. He's handed instead a bag from Sam and disappears into the bathroom to change.

 

"Go now Dean," Cas orders as he exits the bathroom and pockets his phone and wallet.

 

"Nice to see you too Cas."

 

Cas glowers and Dean knows what he's got himself into. Cas is going to push and fight and hide. Dean's going to be frustrated and angry.

 

* * *

 

He does as Cas asks because he remembers the feel of Cas's hand on his chest and the way his partner laid his forehead against the curve of his neck.

 

He's surprised though when Sam brings back an exhausted and grumpy Cas that night.

 

"He's still under watch," Sam explains as Dean remains statuesque by the kitchen counter. Sam gives him a shove as he passes and goes to his own room.

 

Cad blinks, lids low, like he can't keep them open even long enough to sit down.

 

Dean stills himself, wanting to go to him, lead him to bed.

 

"You sort everything?"

 

"No Dean," Cas says impatiently. "I did not sort "everything". I cannot sort "everything", because "everything" is kidnap, attempted murder and a case that has been going on for 15 years."

 

Dean sees his anger. It makes him laugh which only makes Cas more angry until Dean goes over to him and rubs his biceps.

 

"Cas. Cas I know. Cas come on. It'll be ok."

 

"That's what you said before. It's not ok Dean."

 

He's struggling against Dean now, pulling back and away. Dean let's him go, he knows Cas isn't one to be shackled.

 

"You're almost there."

 

"No. Everything before now has been a warm up. I'm not "almost" anything."

 

"Everything. Almost," Dean repeats in the same exaggerated tone Cas has pronounced them in. "Cas. You'll win this. I know you. I know how hard you'll fight. Not long now."

 

Cas can't accept the comfort. Dean remembers when he'd been the same. Not even Sam could help, his little brother who was his world. He sits on the back of the sofa, just watching Cas to see what he'll do. Cas wanders a few steps, unsteady now he's so tired.

 

"You like being in a shit mood don't you?"

 

A scowl forms on Cas's face, familiar and endearing.

 

"This is serious."

 

Dean nods, all seriousness himself now.

 

"I know. When they took you..." He can't get the words out. "I punched Zachariah in the face. He was in custody, handcuffed. If I, uh, go missing, it's probably the police arresting me for beating on a prisoner."

 

Cas frowns and then shakes his head.

 

"I was scared Cas." He finds the words though they stick in his throat. "I don't admit that often, but I guess you need to hear it, and hell I need to say it. So yeah this is serious. I thought you were dead."

 

He shrugs, trying to belittle the emotion in his voice. He was wide open and vulnerable then, waiting for Cas to rip out his heart, tread on his lungs and leave him eternally broken.

 

They're too stubborn. Neither of them wants to give an inch, neither feels safe enough.

 

"I thought so too," Cas replies meeting Dean's sad eyes. He's wavering, usually so strong, here at least Dean wants him to let his guard down. "I was scared. I thought about what would happen if I died then, if Zachariah killed me. Anna would never get her vengeance, I would never be able to ruin Uriel's research. I'd never be able to return Sam's copy of Brave New World and thank him."

 

"That's my book," Dean gripes.

 

"I enjoyed it."

 

"I thought I'd lost it."

 

Cas rubs the back of his head and Dean's aware of just how far off subject they'd gone. Talking trivialities was so much easier than stepping up to the play and remembering just how much trouble they were in.

 

"I'd miss you," Cas says quietly after the long silence.

 

"Nobody to bitch at in heaven?"

 

"I've spent 26 years of my life without someone I can bitch at. It shouldn't be this hard to leave you."

 

Dean shakes his head, trust Cas to make needing him sound like an insult, a weakness. "Yeah well we fucked each other well and good it'd seem."

 

"Was that your intention?" The wry humour that belongs to Cas alone is back beneath the utterly flat words. If Dean hadn't studied the man for half a semester now he'd have missed it, but he is beginning to know Cas.

 

"Something like that," Dean breathes and lets his wonder at Cas show on his face. He'll never get bored of this man, the nuances of his personality, the continual surprises and the work Dean's going to have to put into everything.

 

Cas must see it in his eyes and the blue eyed man moves his weight from one foot to the other. Cas is usually so still, so composed that Dean notices the new tension in him instantly. It's different from socially-awkward Cas, different from angry-at-the-world Cas. Hell it's even different from pissed-off-by-Dean Cas.

 

Apparently this is I-want-to-jump-your-bones Cas as he falls forward into the v of Dean's legs and pretty much attacks Dean's mouth.

 

It takes Dean a moment to catch up, realise what is going on. Then he's all enthusiasm letting Cas all but climb onto the back of the sofa with him in an attempt to get closer. His tongue is in Dean's mouth, his fingers under Dean's shirt.

 

Dean has to pull back pretty quickly as he can't find any air with Cas surrounding him so completely. He gasps and decides I-want-to-jump-your-bones Cas is his favourite type of Cas and in a fit of stupidity and lust pulls Cas to him and drops down over the back of the sofa onto the cushioned seat. They hit and roll, falling off onto the floor in a tangle of legs, cushions and blankets.

 

Cas is kissing him during the fall. They clash heads but Cas doesn't seem to notice and Dean's not going to bring it up when he's getting all doubt kissed out of him so thoroughly.

 

He hated Cas. Which really meant he wanted Cas, but couldn't have Cas. He's still infuriating and annoying distant most of the time, but Dean can see how much of it is a defence, one that Cas has now dropped so thoroughly. He's open and willing above Dean, exploring and savouring, looking for those parts of Dean that will have him broken open like a Chinese puzzle box. At the same time he's opening himself, trusting where before he'd never allowed himself to move an inch. It's a response Dean had never even hoped for, the openness, the willingness. He knows he could hurt Cas with this, knows he never would. Cas could hurt him just as easily.

 

Dean wrestles for control. He knows he has to win this battle, doesn't know why, but this is a war as well as incredibly arousing. He pushes Cas onto his back only to feel his partners legs encircle his waist.

 

Shit, Sam's in the next room and Dean's basically rutting Cas into the floor. If this is the upper hand he doesn't keep it long as Cas wrestles back on top, knees either side to pin Dean. He continues his assault, all tongue and clever fingers and well-timed thrusts of his pelvis.

 

Dean almost gives in, almost lies back and lets Cas do whatever the fuck is in his depraved head. He has a feeling letting Cas win would be far from the worst thing he could ever do. The way his fingers are moving along Dean's jaw speak of deeper, darker fantasies. Cas is a genius it would seem, an evil genius.

 

Dean finds one more burst of defiance, flipping Cas again. It's a moment too long without Cas's lips against his. He rushes in for another all-encompassing meeting of teeth and tongues, loses his balance as Cas shoves up. Dean finds himself straddling his partners lap. Cas has his fingers hooked into Dean's belt loops, his mouth on Dean's neck.

 

Dean gasps, Cas had just moved a hand to his fly. Already too tight, now they felt like torture.

 

"Sam. Next room," Dean manages to mouth.

 

Cas shrugs. "If he comes out now then he's an idiot," Cas says simply. There's complete and utter committal in his eyes, nothing is going to change his mind.

 

Dean can barely find it in himself to disagree. Cas has thrown down the gauntlet, he'd be an idiot to back off now.

 

So he doesn't.

 

* * *

 

The light blue shirt Cas is wearing personally affronts Dean and so he gets to shedding it as quickly as he can. Cas shrugs it off, hands leaving Dean's side for the minimum amount of time.

 

Dean's glad Cas is wearing a button down, he's more annoyed by his own undershirt that Cas has to sweep off over his head. In the darkness and disorientation Dean finds himself once more flat out on his back.

 

Cas breaths a laugh above him, stilling Dean with the show of humour.

 

"What?" Cas growls as Dean grins. "Dean?"

 

"You're cute when you smile."

 

Cas chooses to fight back by burying his face in Dean's neck, nipping at the soft skin beneath his ear. He wants to fight but once more he's stilled by Cas's hands on the button of his jeans. They open easily, the fly sliding down of it's own accord.

 

He's compliant as Cas pokes him to lift his ass so he can drag the jeans down and off, moving back for a moment to pull the denim free.

 

Dean takes a quick deep breath.

 

"Holy shit," he whispers as Cas eyes his boxers, lids heavy over the blue.

 

He'd known it before but now he's sure, Cas is a cocktease. He sits back looking beautiful, bending forward slowly, taking his time searching Dean's body with his eyes.

 

"No you don't," Dean shakes his head sitting up to grab Cas's jeans. He propels them both to his feet, stumbling together. He flips open the button, falls to his knees as he pulls the other man’s trousers down his thighs.

 

Cas lays a hand in his hair, fists his fingers as he steps out the material and Dean's hands settle on his hips.

 

Dean takes a deep breath, steadying himself as he sees just how much he makes Cas feel.

 

Cas puts pressure on his scalp though and Dean feels his head pulled back just as Cas had before.

 

"As I said Dean," he says, tilting his head all power and beauty. "If we do this, we do it my way."

 

Dean stands at gentle insistence till he's face to face with Cas.

 

"How's that Cas?" he can only breathe and even that's difficult with the anticipation building within him.

 

In an instant Cas is at him again, shoving him back into the wall strong and irresistible. Dean shoves him back, refusing to let his lips go but wanting to move him. Cas accepts the challenge grabbing at Dean as Dean fights him back towards his bedroom.

 

They fall through the door, loud and crass. It bangs off the wall with a shudder. Dean kicks it shut, pushing Cas up against the wood.

 

"Like this?"

 

Cas scrambles for purchase but Dean dodges his lips and moves his hand down Cas's stomach to rest on his pubic bone. So close.

 

There's a light in the man’s eyes that Dean hasn't seen before. This is the real Cas, open and uninhibited. This is the Cas that had never been locked in a freezer box as his in all but blood sister committed suicide.

 

"Shit you're gorgeous when you smile," Dean says and lets Cas finally find him lips.

 

With a surge and a kiss that spiked in a grin Cas has him on the bed.

 

"Underwear," Cas pants as he presses heavy into Dean. They fight and fumble, finally naked and Cas remains over Dean gently moving his hips in a way that drives Dean past the edge of distraction.

 

"Cas just get on already," he growls reaching but Cas just pins his arms above his head.

 

"Patience," he whispers and Dean feels the need to snap his teeth in Cas's direction. The bass chuckle he gets in return is probably the sexiest thing he's heard.

 

A proper roll of his hips makes Dean putty in Cas's capable hands. He moves with him, feeling the friction and loosing himself.

 

He can't fight anymore, can't be anything but pliant and heated and willing.

 

Cas is breathing heavy into his neck. His hands have released Dean's and so he reaches around to pull Cas closer, always closer, as if they could get any closer.

 

He can barely breathe now. Neither can Cas. Their breath hitches, their hearts stumbling as they reach to find what they're searching for.

 

Cas crests first, pressing his face into the curve of Dean's neck with a cut off cry. It's enough to tip Dean over the edge, the pressure that had been building inside of him blinding.

 

* * *

 

Dean sleeps. He's exhausted, worn out and completely spent in the best possible way.

 

He sleeps 6 hours which when he wakes he thinks must be a record.

 

In fact the only reason he does is because Cas wakes and immediately sits bolt upright in the bed.

 

Dean wraps his arms around him, soothing and reassuring.

 

"Cas it's me. It's alright. It's me. Come on it's me. Cas. It'll be ok. Cas. Cas."

 

It takes time but Cas comes back to him blinking the fear from his large blue eyes.

 

"Remember last night," Dean whispers with a smile as Cas relaxes back into his, naked back to naked chest. "Remember why you're here. Remember why you have that hickie on your neck."

 

Cas slaps a hand over the red bruise Dean blows on.

 

"Remember how you cried out. Remember how you could barely make it to this bed."

 

He drops a hand to Cas's lap, palming his already hard cock. With a lazy roll of his hips he lets Cas feel his own excitement.

 

"Remember how I touched you? You remember don't you? You remember where those scratches came from too, don't you?"

 

Cas lets his head fall back, his mouth is open, eyes closed. He's lost in sensation, lost to Dean's touch.

 

Dean starts rolling his hips in rhythm to his strokes.

 

"Remember shouting my name."

 

Dean punctuates with an exaggerated roll of his hips, a tight fist. It makes Cas arch and gasp.

 

* * *

 

They slow, the adrenaline coursing through their systems making them shaky and dim witted.

 

They lie, eyes half lidded, limbs entangled. Dean strokes over Cas's cheek as Cas plays with his free hand.

 

It's almost awkward, except Dean won't let himself be scared of Cas. He knows the guy too well to be intimidated by his silence.

 

Cas is touching him, stroking him, sharing his time and that means more than any words ever could.

 

Midday and Dean is forced from the bed by his phone.

 

"I didn't want to come in," Sam says in a tight voice.

 

"Good," Dean answers him, his eyes scan the naked man lying on his side across his mattress.

 

"Look right I know Cas is there. I need to speak with him. It's about C&C. They've made a bid. We've accepted. The case is there's as long as Cas agrees too."

 

"The hell Sam?" Dean exclaims forgetting to keep his voice down around the sleeping Cas.

 

Cas stirs and Dean slides back onto the bed. He leans over the half-awake man, running a feather light hand up his back.

 

"It's a great deal. Henriksen gets to continue on and so I do too. I get to work for C&C. This could be huge Dean."

 

Dean stills his anger. He gets the feeling that C&C taking over will not be a good thing.

 

"Yeah well I hope so."

 

Cas waves an annoyed hand at Dean trying to bat him away. Dean can't help but smile as he continues to run gentle fingers along the most sensitive parts of his lover.

 

"You home?"

 

"I'll be back at 2. Please pick up your clothes by then. I do not need to see my client’s discarded clothes on my living room floor ever again."

 

Dean laughs as Sam hangs up, bending over to lay a kiss on Cas's shoulder.

 

"Up sleepyhead," he demands pulling at Cas's arm.

 

Cas has no interest though, coming up only because Dean makes him before slumping onto Dean's shoulder.

 

"Maybe you're not such a bad drunk, you're just awful when you're tired."

 

Cas kisses his shoulder, snuggling in, begging Dean with his mouth not to have to wake up.

 

The trust and openness continues to awe Dean.

 

"Come on. Up, now."

 

Dean slides back off the bed, pulling Cas so he's standing in his arms. His eyes are still closed, his arms heavy around Dean's shoulders.

 

"Is this purely some kind of excuse not to have to let go of me?"

 

Immediately Cas is away and picking up his things. Dean takes the chance to study Cas's long figure.

 

"Dean?"

 

He hadn't realised Cas had turned. He's looking over his shoulder, causing his back muscles to move in interesting ways.

 

"Hey-uh?" Dean mumbles.

 

Cas turns to him fully and Dean swallows air. Warm hands bracket his face, the naked man before him everything he ever dreamed of.

 

"Hey Cas," he manages.

 

"Hello Dean."

 

Their kiss is sweet and tender, beautiful and longing. Dean feels it from the air he breaths to the blood that pumps through his veins.

 

"What did Sam call about?"

 

"He wanted to speak to you, but he was scared you'd be spread out naked on our couch if he just showed up."

 

Cas shrugs. "That is a possibility."

 

The gravel of his voice goes straight to Dean's groin. "He's going to have to be careful to always knock before he enters."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time coming?
> 
> (Damn I just read that back, that is not a euphemism!)
> 
> (Well maybe a little)


	5. Inferno

Cas was husking strawberries with nimble fingers as Dean enters the room. And isn't that a sight. He's twisting a knife and licking at his thumb. When he's finished he picks up each individual strawberry and inspects it, cutting off any imperfections before dropping it in the finished bowl. Dean really fucking wants a strawberry right now as Cas tries one, sucking the juice from his fingers.

 

Sam's sitting opposite him, ignoring the frankly erotic act in front of him.

 

It strikes Dean dumb, how Sam isn't moved at all. He stands statuesque for a moment before he realises that what Cas is doing isn't actually lewd. There's no reason to rush Sam out the room, hands over his eyes.

 

"Dean?" Cas questions when he's stood for too long.

 

"H-ey," he breaths taking in his lover and it leaves him breathless.

 

Sam looks between the two of them, mouth full of half chewed muesli. His eyes are wide. "You want me to leave?" he asks through the cereal.

 

Dean bats him round the back of the head and Sam swallows and chokes.

 

"Serves you right," Dean grumbles eyes once more on Cas and the strawberries. "Seriously man," he complains. "That's got to be illegal."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"The strawberries... your... fuck." He turns, hands on his head, amazed he can feel so frustrated after the last night. He'd be frustrated before, months of watching Cas but not being able to touch. It had made him greedy and now he’s allowed, every moment he restrains himself makes him more and more antsy.

 

Of course Cas has to make it worse, coming round the kitchen bench to press a strawberry to Dean's lips. Dean barely tastes the sweet fruit, he's too focused on Cas's lips.

 

"Right, I get it, I'm off." Sam can't take it any longer. He thrusts his bowl forward and makes to stand.

 

"Sam you wanted to speak about my case?" Cas says instead, heading back to the cutting board he'd been standing in front of and starting to clear up.

 

Sam relaxes, punching at Dean's leg as his older brother hits his back.

 

"Yeah. Ji- Cas. As you know we've in negotiations with Crowley and Campbell about your case. I'm sure you're already aware but C&C is one of the biggest law firms in the country. They head up about half of the cases that make it to the national news. They have a real monopoly on the market. Their resources are spectacular..."

 

"Sam your crush is showing," Dean says. He knows what's coming.

 

Sam admirably ignores him even as Cas shoots him an annoyed look. "Cas they would like to buy us out for your case."

 

There's silence for a moment as Sam holds his breath and waits for Cas's reaction. Dean chews on his lip, aware that his anger is showing on his face.

 

Cas though takes his time to think about what Sam has said, Sam's expression and Dean's as well.

 

"What about you and Henrikson?"

 

Right question. Dean wants to throw his arms around his lover. Cas is actually thinking beyond himself. Something that until just now Dean wasn't sure he was able to do. It wasn't that Cas was mean, or selfish, just oblivious.

 

Instead he moves around the bench with the excuse of pouring himself a glass of orange and leans into Cas's side. Cas still isn't the best at flirting though and asks him "why" with a narrowing of his eyes. Dean shrugs. No reason, he wants to say, other than thank you. And it's been too long since I last touched you.

 

"The company and case are both part of the deal. The case remains ours but with C&C backing. Henrikson remains your lawyer and I your second. We'll have the media coverage, the financial help, the contacts of C&C though. Cas if you agree then this case is going to blow up. I mean national. There's going to be a media storm. C&C will make sure of that."

 

Cas is quiet for a long time. Dean doesn't attempt to touch him. He knows Cas and how he's new to intimacy. This feels intimate.

 

"Yes," Cas agrees. "Of course yes. For Anna."

 

Dean can't hold his tongue. "You know this means more cops, 24 hour press coverage? Cas things are going to change."

 

Cas clenches his jaw. "I know Dean."

 

"Just saying."

 

"I know." Cas stops himself and calms with effort. "I know."

 

Dean though can't bring himself down. "They'll be at your house, they'll want to know everything."

 

"Everything is going to come out anyway."

 

"They'll hound you. About Anna, about Zachariah. They'll dig up your worst memories and they'll flaunt them for the world to see."

 

"Dean I know," Cas bites. He slams his hands on the worktop. "What do you think I've been working towards these past 15 years? Why do you think I risked my life for this? I could have stopped, I could have faded away. But for Anna, Dean."

 

Cas leaves soon after and Dean sulks. Sam speaks with Crowley and Campbell who draw up a battle plan.

 

* * *

 

It's the first time they've spoken on the phone. 4am and Dean's awake though pretending. He sets the phone to his ear without bothering to check the display, probably Ash or Jo, drunk and stupid.

 

"Dean?"

 

His breath stills as he hears Cas's voice. His pulse hitches and thunders in his ears. He's not sure whether he's imagining things.

 

"Hey Cas, man."

 

He sits, rubbing at his foggy head. He hadn't been sleeping but he hadn't been completely conscious either.

 

"Dean I..." Cas sounds frustrated. He doesn't know how to ask for what he wants, doesn't know how to admit to himself he wants it.

 

"Yeah me too," Dean answers though he doesn't really know what Cas was about to say. It's been three days since Cas left his apartment leaving the strawberries out on the side as a infuriating reminder of just what had walked out on Dean.

 

"Forget it," Cas growls, angry now but Dean thinks it's at himself. He probably thinks it's weak that he broke and called Dean. He hangs up before Dean can stop him.

 

4.35am and Dean is climbing in through Cas's window. The drainpipe is looser than ever and Dean thinks he should probably get it fixed if this is to become a regular occurrence.

 

He falls onto Cas's bed where the occupier grunts but doesn't move.

 

Dean kicks off his shoes and drops his jacket and jeans to the floor.

 

"Cover hog," he moans as he fights his way into the warmth.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

"Don't complain now. You're the one who rang me."

 

Dean snuggles in closer not even attempting to hide the fact that he just wants to be close to Cas. Sex is secondary tonight.

 

"Dean I didn't call you because..."

 

Dean's sigh of contentment stops Cas in his tracks.

 

"Yeah you did."

 

"Dean what is happening?" Cas insists.

 

"I don't know. Apparently not sleep."

 

He rolls back so he can see Cas in the moonlight. The man looks sultry but Dean's sure Cas doesn't recognise it in himself.

 

"If you relaxed a bit you'd probably get it," he complains just wanting the warmth of Cas's chest. "I don't know Cas, what do you think’s happening?"

 

Cas pulls right back, sits cross legged and still. "Are we dating?"

 

Dean grins and stretches like a cat, making himself comfortable in Cas's space. "That'd be up to you Cas."

 

"Don't you have a say?"

 

Sometimes Cas's vision was strangely tunnelled. "Nope," Dean laughs. He's so far gone already on the man.

 

Cas furrows his brow, trying to work out what Dean is saying. Dean lets him off, it is 4.30 in the morning after all, way too late for big conversations.

 

"Sleep," he tells his lover. "You'll be sharp as a tack come morning."

 

* * *

 

Cas is an awful boyfriend, if that's even what they are. Cas never brought it up again. Dean suspects he's confused because Dean told him it was purely his decision.

 

To be fair Cas is pretty much the same as when he wasn't Dean's maybe-boyfriend.

 

Cas rarely calls. He stays late at the lab. He has meeting after meeting after meeting with his lawyers now that C&C are powering forward. He'd sulked for three days when he'd stormed from Dean's apartment and was annoyed that Dean had let him have his time and space.

 

He was different as well though. Cas as a terrible boyfriend is much more affable than Cas the recluse. Dean laughs to himself at the thought of affable being a word used to describe Cas. He doubts there is anyone in the world that would pick that description in their top 50 words about Cas.

 

It's been a week since Dean climbed through his window after the late night call. Cas has slept at his own house every night since and Dean at his apartment. Dean's made his peace with taking things slowly even if he'd prefer to lock himself and Cas in for a week straight. Even if it's too late in his book now to slow down. Their first night together had pretty much destroyed any physical boundaries Dean had with Cas.

 

But when Cas doesn't invite him over he doesn't push. And when Cas puts on his shoes after a night of hanging out on the couch Dean doesn't suggest otherwise.

 

So there are emotional boundaries still to go. Dean's got no worries about the sex side, but he's bricking it about just exactly what Cas wants from him.

 

There's attraction, lust, even an uneasy friendship. Dean thinks he understands Cas better than pretty much anybody in the world. Which is why he doesn't push.

 

What he doesn't know though is whether Cas wants him to. Dean doesn’t want to push and have Cas push back, but also he doesn't want to stand back while Cas waits for him to make a move.

 

Dean had placed it all in Cas's hands. Are we dating? It was up to Cas. Cas had to be the one to come to Dean.

 

Even if that made him want to scream.

 

He's not sure he's over the kidnapping. In fact he knows he isn't but he's not admitting that to anyone. He's nervous when Cas is out of his sight. Not that he lets it show. Cas would kill him if he thought Dean was checking up on him. So Dean sits and threats and wonders if there are more people out there with things to lose when the truth comes out. Which it will. Zachariah has handed Cas his winning argument on a platter.

 

All of which isn't really why he breaks out into a smile when he sees Cas walking across the park.

 

Dean's so far gone on the guy he doesn't even think about the sexless nights alone, or the fact he hasn't seen Cas in 2 days, or that Zachariah might already have another hit man on the job.

 

"Hello Dean."

 

"Yeah hey."

 

"I need to get to the lab."

 

Cas doesn't move though. He continues to stand, hips swung to one side to rest his books on. He looks puzzled, childlike naivety shining.

 

"What's the matter?"

 

Cas falls onto the grass beside Dean with a sigh.

 

"If I never finish my thesis I want you to know it is your fault Dean Winchester."

 

Dean pulls him close, wrapping an arm around Cas's shoulder so that his temple can lay on Dean's.

 

"I know. And I accept full responsibility."

 

"Good."

 

"If you take full responsibility for us both failing religious lit."

 

Cas groans into Dean's shoulder. "The midterm essay. Damn it."

 

"Na come on, it'll be fun. For each paragraph we finish we'll remove one item of clothing."

 

Cas groans again, but this time it's a moan of need rather than despair. His lips flutter over Dean's pulse and it's enough, already too much.

 

"Cas not here."

 

Wrong thing to say. Cas moves a hand to Dean's lap and brushes it over his crotch as he moves closer.

 

"Cas you sure?" Dean asks while he still has some of his faculties. Cas hasn't made a move on him in a week. Every kiss has been one Dean's stolen.

 

Angry blue eyes meet his. Straight on and staring Cas is a scary son of a bitch. Dean swallows, the fear mixed with arousal.

 

"I am tired of waiting to figure this out," he says voice as deep and dark as a rock fall. "I no longer care if we are dating. I want you."

 

He presses down harder before pulling away completely and standing.

 

It's fast and cold and despicable and Dean scowls. He's been so strong dealing with all of Cas's shit so far but now he's frustrated and blue balled.

 

"Well you have to fucking care Cas," Dean growls. "That's kind of the whole point."

 

He knows he's probably taking it in a way Cas doesn't mean but still it irks him enough to fight.

 

"You think this is just some fuck? Fuck yourself Cas, I want none of it."

 

Cas wants to fight, it's clear on his face, but he's also completely surprised by Dean. He's speechless. For the love of god Dean's made the bastard speechless. He feels vulnerable on the grass and pushes himself up to face Cas.

 

"Dean?"

 

"I'm gonna put this is a way that even you have to be able to understand. This, you and me. It can be what you want it to be. We can be a couple, or we can be friends, or we can bitch and fight and make the rest of the class flee in terror. It's up to you. What we can't be is fuck-buddies because I can't do that with you Cas. I can't have you like that without wanting more and that will break me. So it's your choice. Are we dating?"

 

Cas is half way between a scowl and a confused furrow of his brow.

 

"Dean?" he asks after a while, confused and hollow.

 

"Damn it Cas make the call."

 

The proud man puffs himself up and Dean readies himself for an argument the like they're unlikely to ever top.

 

What he gets instead is a stark question. "Dean do you want me?"

 

"Holy shit yes," Dean says under his breath. "It's your decision Cas. I want you laid out right here in this park but it's up to you."

 

Cas considers for a moment. He's hunched in on himself, arms folded over his chest.

 

"I don't think the university would appreciate that."

 

"I'd appreciate it though."

 

"Do we actually have to go out on dates?"

 

"Generally them's the rules, but it's up to the couple," Dean shrugs, like he's not grinning on the inside.

 

"I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if you were there."

 

"I take that as the highest of compliments."

 

"How often?"

 

"What?"

 

"How often would we have to go out on a date?"

 

Dean drags a hand across his face. He's not finding this funny. He's absolutely not. "Cas don't be so literal. You know what I mean. A relationship. I don't care about dates and chocolates and flowers."

 

There's a small smile playing at the corners of Cas's lips, but before Dean can tease it out more Cas's phone rings.

 

"Hello?" His face falls as he listens. "Yes. I understand. No I guess not. Look we spoke of this before. And I understand, I'm a scientist not a monkey. Very well. I will see you shortly."

 

"Who?" Dean asks after Cas has slipped the phone back into his pocket.

 

"Henrikson. They're ready to move the case forward."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

"The end Dean."

 

Cas takes a step closer as he speaks, right into Dean's personal space. Not that Dean has ever needed it with Cas.

 

"The lab," Cas says against his lips.

 

Dean groans. "No Cas." He finds himself being dragged towards the ugly building and pushed inside, one Cas's card opens the behemoth. Cas keeps pushing even after Dean would have fallen into a seat at the main table. He pushes until Dean finds himself in a small dark room.

 

"Where are we?"

 

Cas shrugs, so close Dean can feel it in the darkness. "Store room. It used to hold the fluorescent microscopes until the rig got too big."

 

Cas is leaning into him, body firm and warm. He hasn't even used his hands yet but Dean's ready.

 

"Store room Cas? Not very original."

 

Not that Cas needs originality marks when the rest of his score is so damn perfect. He drops to his knees and then his hands are on Dean.

 

"You're kidding right?" Dean asks trying to keep his excitement under control.

 

"If I were to say yes..."

 

"I might just have to punch you."

 

Cas chuckles close to Dean's cock. Then come the fingers, teasing open his button. He can't see a thing in the small room, isn't even sure how big it would be if he tried to reach the far wall.

 

"Cas," he groans wanting only more, so much more.

 

Dean knew Cas would never be easy, but it doesn't stop him being the most frustrating man Dean's ever met.

 

* * *

 

Somebody knocks as Cas kisses the crease of Dean's hip.

 

The door's locked, Dean remembers hearing Cas turn the key. He doesn't stop, just moves in a little so his lips are ghosting across the line of Dean's aching cock.

 

The knock comes again and Dean almost shouts out that they're busy. Cas doesn't seem to be worried and the keys still in the lock, there's no way anybody is getting in.

 

Voices, but Dean's distracted as Cas takes hold of him and runs his fingers in twisting agony to the head.

 

Dean feels his cheeks burn at the voices outside. He feels vulnerable and exposed. Not that he cares to act on his embarrassment as Cas sucks him in.

 

It feels too damn good to care that people know what's going on behind the closed door.

 

Sucking and teasing Cas has him panting, head thrown back and lungs working overtime. He wants to buck and move but he's leaning against the door and all they need outside is for the door to start banging along with Dean's thrusts.

 

"Cas." Dean tries not to speak his lovers name but it's ripped from him as pleasure rolls through him. He's so close his legs are weak and he has to grasp at Cas's shoulders to remain upright. Cas refuses to let up. He holds Dean's hips, keeping him in place and continues to demolish him with lips and tongue and low moans.

 

Dean comes with a cry. He couldn't have kept silent if his life depended on it. He crumples, caught easily by Cas and lowered so he's sitting on the floor, body loose.

 

Cas chuckles, the sound dark and erotic in the black.

 

"You're the devil in disguise," Dean groans still flooded with endorphins and too blissed out to move. He tries to stretch out but his boots hit the far wall before his legs can straighten. There's barely enough room to even lie curled up as Cas kisses him long and hard, pushing an exhausted Dean back.

 

"I have my moments." He pulls Dean up again so they're wedged together leaning back against the door. "I have to go see Henrikson."

 

"I don't think I can move."

 

There’s another sharp knock on the door and Dean groans.

 

"Up," Cas orders, then to whoever was knocking on the door, "One minute."

 

He drags Dean up who basically collapsed onto his shoulder and refuses to get moving.

 

"Can we not just stay here?"

 

"In a closet?"

 

"I'm not ready to come out yet."

 

Cas chuckles and rubs his hands up under Dean's t-shirt. "I think Sam knows." He punctuates with a kiss. "You could stay here for the day I suppose."

 

With that he opens the door to see a surprised looking student. Cas glares at him as he stands wide eyed.

 

"We... we were going to put the broken fridge in here," he says blushing.

 

Dean smirks at the kid’s embarrassment pressing his nose into Cas's shoulder from behind.

 

"Ok fine," Cas sighs. "I'll just have to find another sex cupboard."

 

Dean's laughter explodes and he finds himself hiding his face in Cas's shirt. The kid looks terrified.

 

* * *

 

It's obvious as soon as Sam enters the apartment that something is wrong.

 

"Sammy?"

 

Dean doesn't waste time trying to read the heartbreak on his little brothers face, he flat out demands answers, pulling Sam into a hug as he questions him.

 

"I... I did something slightly illegal."

 

"What? Sam?"

 

Dean holds his brother at arm’s length and holds his eyes. Sam is on the verge of tears, there's so much emotion running through him.

 

"I'm so sorry. Dean I am."

 

"Sammy out with it."

 

"I looked into my old social services record. When I was nine and that couple tried to adopt me."

 

"Yeah, I remember."

 

"I found their names."

 

A deep heavy weight settles in Dean's stomach. He thinks he might be sick. He knows what Sam was going to say.

 

"It was Adler."

 

Dean pulls him in again as if he could hide Sam from their past, the pain and guilt.

 

"Zachariah Adler. Dean it could have been me."

 

"Yeah but it wasn't."

 

"No, it was Cas. Dean, Cas was almost murdered and it could have been me."

 

"Yeah I know. I know Sammy."

 

Dean has no idea what to say. There is no way to comfort Sam through this. He knows Sam is scared, the close call he'd only just survived. He knows Sam's guilt too, that another had to go through that instead of him. That was how Sam's mind worked.

 

* * *

 

"Dean? You got a 98 on your midterm."

 

Dean takes the paper back from Dr Mills checking the red ringed score to make sure he heard right.

 

"I'll tell Cas."

 

"Dean? Did Cas do anything on this?"

 

Dean can't lie to her. It's not in his bones to lie, except to himself.

 

"He um didn't actually write anything... but the ideas are his, half of them anyway. It's all from our discussions. I know what he wanted to put in there so I wrote it up. But the work's both of ours. Really."

 

She gives him an unsure frown.

 

Dean hasn't seen Cas in a week, not since their they'd fucked in the closet. He'd tried to find Cas after Sam had calmed down, but Cas wasn't answering his phone. He wasn't home either, or at the lab.

 

When he'd asked Sam his brother merely shrugged.

 

Dean's worried, the fear grinds in his chest. He'd handed in the midterm he'd written alone and hoped Cas would come back to him.

 

"Dean Cas has dropped the class. From what I understand he's put his thesis on hold till next year. Do you know why?"

 

The look on Dr Mill's face told him she'd assumed he'd known. Now her face was twisted in regret.

 

"Dean, I... I thought you knew."

 

Dean tries to get a grip on himself. "Yeah." She shakes the pain from his mind. "Yeah, I just thought he was going to try and muddle through this module at least. He's got something big coming up, you know how he's missed a lot of class lately."

 

Dr Mill's is still wary but she nods. "Are you ok Dean?"

 

"I'm fine. Just gonna miss him is all. But this is more important."

 

He nods in return, trying to convince himself. Cas has quit university. It's understandable with the progress their making on his case, but he can't help feel that coupled with his disappearance something is very wrong.

 

He pulls out his phone before he's even out the class.

 

"Sam?"

 

"Hey Dean." Sam's too quiet, there's a hint of guilt in his voice there.

 

"Sam what's going on? Where is Cas?"

 

There's a sigh over the line and his brother asks he meet him at the university coffee shop.

 

Dean's there in minutes, stalking through the doors and glaring at the staff.

 

"Dean."

 

"Out with it Sam. I'm not in the mood for being lied to right now."

 

"I only just found out. Cas went on a trip to DC with Henrikson. We're ready to go. So Cas is staying... in Washington."

 

"And he didn't think to tell me?!"

 

Sam sits still and patient, waiting for Dean to burn off some of his anger.

 

"It's only temporary, just until the case is done."

 

"And how long will that take?"

 

Sam shrugs, unsure. It depends on so much.

 

"And more to the point, he didn't tell me. He just upped and left. Who does that Sam? He didn't even say."

 

Sam can't tell Dean any different. He knows Cas is in the wrong in this, but he also knows the strange and damaged man that his brother has fallen for.

 

"Dean I'm going with them. Just for the case."

 

* * *

 

Dean's not sure how his life fell apart so quickly. He lies on his bench outside of Starbucks and tries to keep it all together.

 

Except he's not sure he's got anything left.

 

Sam's gone to Washington. It's the first time Dean's been without the kid since he refused to go into foster care at 16.

 

It's like losing an arm, a part of him that walked around independent but still vital.

 

He'd lived his life for Sam and without him he wasn't really sure what his purpose was anymore.

 

Then there was Cas. Finally he'd made some headway. The rude, arrogant, awkward loner had let him somewhat into his life. The sex had been amazing.

 

But he'd run. Disappeared to Washington without so much of a word.

 

They'd never officially been together, but it still felt like a breakup.

 

* * *

 

Dean keeps abreast of the news over the next month. The case has really caught the media’s attention.

 

It's odd to see Cas on TV. He's different, well-schooled by Crowley and Campbell. He's still stoic and still, but they've played up his emotion, taught him what to say and how to say it. He doesn't come across as rude, rather upset and he's captured the nation’s hearts.

 

Sam calls daily but Dean refuses to talk about his feeling for Cas. He doesn't want to think about what this means for them.

 

He sees Cas the actor and he mourns his lover.

 

It's five weeks before Sam and Cas come back to Kansas and then only for a four day break.

 

"C&C suggested it. It's more a treat for the paparazzi. They'll be following Cas around like hawks, trying to get photos of him in his normal life."

 

"Normal," Dean snorts. "I doubt it. The media would hate the real Cas."

 

"He's doing well. Hasn't even swore at a reporter yet. I think he knows how important the media can be in these cases."

 

Dean continues to strip the orange in front of him, pulling each stringy line of white apart. He's not hungry.

 

"It's not Cas though. If they knew..."

 

"Look I like Cas, I do. But on TV, he wouldn't come across too well. Come on Dean in real life you hated him to start with."

 

"I never hated him."

 

Sam shrugs. They all know what Dean has been feeling since he met Cas. Sometimes it’s easy to disguise love as hatred.

 

"I told him about your midterm. I think he was proud."

 

Dean glances at Sam, his brother looks worried.

 

"I mean, he didn't say anything, but I got the feeling... Cas doesn't really talk much."

 

No, Dean thinks, only to him, in the dark where all their securities are washed away.

 

* * *

 

Cas spots Dean as he exits the English building and heads across the park to Starbucks. There's a gaggle of reporters following him but he can't help himself and makes a b-line for his lover.

 

"Dean?"

 

Dean stops dead in the middle of the grassy field.

 

"Oh hey Cas," Dean answers seeing the reporters crowding around while trying to stay the customary creeper distance back. "How you doing?" Even to his own ears he sounds plastic and fake.

 

"I am fine Dean. I need to speak to you."

 

Dean shrugs. "Why? You dropped English. Sam told you about the midterm right? 98%, we did really well." The fake happiness makes him want to gag but he can't change his tone, not when Cas is standing there looking so together and in control. Dean wants to break apart, but he won't let himself. He's had years of practice and Cas is not enough to break him.

 

"Dean, please. Inside."

 

Cas takes his arm, squeezing a lot harder than it looks. Dean won't fight in front of the cameras. He plasters on a grin and goes with the man.

 

Inside the reporters can't follow. Cas pushes them into the now empty religious literature room.

 

"We've got nothing to talk about," Dean grinds out, the faux-merriment falling away like the broken glass it is.

 

"I'm not worth it."

 

Dean stops. He'd been readying himself to fight. He is used to it now anyway, yet another time a simple conversation had degraded into a confusion of anger and insults. Just like the old days, just like before they'd become more to each other.

 

"The hell?"

 

"I'm broken Dean, can't you see that? You think it's cute that I'm distant and rude but it's not cute, it's just me."

 

Dean can't believe what he's hearing. He moves towards the tense and flighty man and attempts to take him into his arms. He won't let Cas break by himself, not when he's there. Even angry and heartbroken.

 

"Whatever they did to you to make you so broken that you believe that, it's bullshit. I don't care. I know you don't like people, but you like me right? That's what matters. I know you're a rude, uptight bastard but for some odd reason that works for me, because I'm the one who gets to break through all that shit and I like what I find underneath."

 

"Dean, they locked me in the freezer."

 

"I know."

 

"They turned it on and I screamed and shouted and beat on the sides till my hands bled. I couldn't stop Anna when she went up to the roof. I couldn't tell her it'd be ok. I didn't believe it would be."

 

"It'll be ok," Dean coos, his constant mantra and he hopes Cas will believe it. Cas finally lets him hold him. With his lover in his arms again Dean feels like he can breathe. Things aren't ok, by a long shot, but right now it didn't matter, he had Cas.

 

"Crowley and Campbell don't approve of me being with a man. They say it harms my image."

 

"So you're just going to let them rule your life?"

 

Strengthened by the hug Cas steps back and away from Dean.

 

"For now Dean."

 

 

 

 

"Bullshit Cas! I can help. I don't want you to be alone."

 

Cas straightens his shirt, a light blue that is at odds with the shadows in his eyes. "I've been alone my whole life."

 

"That doesn't make it ok!"

 

He is shouting and Cas is shaking his head at the floor. Dean feels like hes continents away from the beautiful man standing less than a foot away.

 

"I don't want you to leave."

 

"I should not have come."

 

"Hell yeah you should have Cas, because I'm here for you and you need that. Screw needing it, you want it. And maybe you should do what you want for a change. I miss you."

 

He steps forward, put his forehead to the tortured young mans.

 

"It'll be ok. Stop being so strong for five damn minutes and let me in."

 

He snakes his arms around Cas, breathes in his lover, basks in his heat. Dean holds him tight.

 

"Cas? You gotta give me something ok? Anything?"

 

"I love you Dean."

 

He could have punched Dean in the throat and it would have hurt less, the way Cas stands back, face carefully blank. Dean's world reels as Cas head for the door and leaves him alone and cold.

 

* * *

 

A month later.

 

"In one of the biggest cases to hit the US social system in almost twenty years there was an applauded verdict today as Zachariah Adler and Gordon Walker were sentenced to fifteen years each for the attempted murder of Jimmy Novak. Adler and Walker kidnapped Novak on the 27th of June this year and attempted to gas his using their car exhaust. Novak survived when police broke into Adler's house due to his involvement in a long dead case that stretched back 15 years to when Adler and his wife Bella were investigated when their adoptive daughter Anna was found dead. It was an assumed suicide but Jimmy Novak always maintained that the Adler's had been trying to murder him by locking him in a freezer at that time. Gordon Walker, a police chief at the time with the Kansas City police force was implicated in evidence tampering. Adler's wife Bella got five years for conspiracy to commit murder."

 

Dean turns away from the screen. He knows the story too well. He's glad Cas has won his case, glad he is a national hero now.

 

"Hey Winchester," the cop says from the other side of the bars. "Got a visitor."

 

"Thought I'd turn in for the night Maurice."

 

The cop shakes his head and whacks on the bars. "He paid your parole smartass so I suggest you change out your jammies and get your ass out here."

 

Dean sits, swings his legs from the small cot.

 

Maurice lets him out, pats him on the shoulder. "Got a call from central a moment ago as well. I don't think they'll be pursuing charges. You punched a prisoner, but he's just been sent down for two acts of attempted murder and that wouldn't look good for the force."

 

"Took their time didn't they."

 

"Well they didn't want to pursue it in the first place, that's why they didn't pick you up for so long, but there's still some politics going about and if Adler had been acquitted they'd be baying for your blood."

 

"But since he's gone down I'm a free man?"

 

"Pretty much. Just keep your head down Winchester."

 

He leaves Dean as they reach the main gates, lets him out and then falls back.

 

There was a figure on the lone bench, crouched over and silent.

 

Dean had thought it'd be Sam that had bailed him out. This man though is smaller, his hair shorter.

 

"Cas?"

 

With a start Cas stands and blinks in the harsh electric lights.

 

"What are you doing here?"

 

He notices how harsh he sounds as Cas flinches. Dean doesn't take it back though, he still feels the knife of Cas's last parting statement.

 

"I, um, I came to get you. I did not think you'd enjoy spending the night in a cell."

 

"Choices choices," Dean hisses pushing past his ex-lover and out onto the steps of the police station.

 

Cameras flash all around him, the paparazzi that had been waiting for Cas.

 

"This your new entourage?"

 

"Dean." Cas grabs his hand, stops him mid step. "Please."

 

"Please what Cas? You want to do this here, in front of your loving fans?"

 

"It does not bother me what they know."

 

Dean turns back to the blue eyed man. He still remembers those first days, when he'd been infatuated and Cas had made him want to strangle him.

 

"You know what, I think that makes it worse."

 

He tries to go but Cas still has a hold on his sleeve.

 

"I meant what I said. But you know I had to have justice for Anna."

 

"I know Cas. I understood. Hell I supported you every step of the way. You think I'm not thrilled that Anna got her peace? I am, I really am. But right now, that's not the problem. This is about you and me and how I haven't seen you in a month, where you said... god Cas, you can't just say stuff like that and leave."

 

Cas frowns at him, he doesn't let go of his wrist.

 

"I thought you would have liked to hear how I felt."

 

"Cas you ran off, that's not what you do..."

 

He bends his head, tries to pass it off as nothing. It's not going to work though.

 

"When you tell someone you love them?"

 

The photographers were quiet, all pretty struck by the two men’s conversation.

 

"I have not done such a thing before," Cas continued. "I apologise for doing it badly."

 

At the stilted apology Dean's anger disappears. He steps up to where Cas is standing looking lost. Now just one step above Cas still keeps tight hold of his hand.

 

"Why change how we've been all along?" Dean smiles hoping Cas will accept it as an invitation to move on.

 

"I have not acted as I should." Cas shakes his head. "I should have kissed you long before everything got in the way."

 

"Cas," Dean interrupts. He puts a hand to Cas's lips to stop him. "Don't. Just... now Cas, just now."

 

Cas shakes his head, moves away and down the steps. Still the paparazzi remain silent, cameras down, watching the two men teetering on the edge.

 

"I didn't think you gave anything up that easy Cas."

 

Cas spins back, he's now half way down the wide, shallow steps. "I'm not giving up. I'm stepping back. I want this Dean, but I know it is not fair on you."

 

Dean practically runs to him, wrapping his arms tight around Cas. "How can you even think that?" He pulls back so he can wipe a finger over Cas's cheekbone.

 

"I'm broken."

 

"So, I'll fix you."

 

He shrugs, passing it off as such an easy thing. It seems easy in that moment as Cas stands before him and tells him that he loves him.

 

Dean grins, he thinks Cas will let him. He kisses him, chaste and slow as the paparazzi spring to life and snap their photos. Cas sneaks his hands up Dean's back and only holds him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed
> 
> I had a LOT of fun writing this!
> 
> Plotless sequels with left over cute will be the second half of the series!


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